


Tomorrow is the Beginning of Everything

by Wwwhat



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Character Death, Childbirth, Christmas, Developing Relationship, Flashbacks, M/M, Misunderstandings, Omega John, Omega Verse, Parentlock, Post-Reichenbach, Reichenbach Falls, Reichenbach Feels, Sad, Suicide, confusing feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 55,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wwwhat/pseuds/Wwwhat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things change more than Sherlock had imagined they could in the three years he's been gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Now - Life Doesn't Stop For Anyone

**Author's Note:**

> So the first chapter of this was originally a stand alone work, and a sad one at that. But for some reason it just wouldn't get out of my head after I'd posted it, and after the comments on it, so I've written some more :-D
> 
> I'm writing it with flashbacks, so one chapter will be 'Now' and the following one will be 'Then'. I've got about half of it written at the moment, and I'll be posting two chapters at a time, and since I started with a 'Now' chapter I'll usually be posting a 'Then' followed by a 'Now'. I think it'll be about 30 fairly short chapters, but we'll see, it might end up running away with me! 
> 
> Also, apols for putting this on Ch 1 and 2 but if some of you have read Ch 1 already you might have skipped over this edit on Ch 1! 
> 
> Anyway, enough from me, here it is. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, W :-)

** Now **

Sherlock watched from across the restaurant. He was tucked into a dark booth, and even if he hadn't been his hipster clothes and over long hair would have kept him almost unrecognizable. Almost. 

He waved away the waitress who'd blocked his view as she'd asked him more inane questions. The promise of a large tip if she left him alone soon saw her off.

Three years. Three years without a glimpse of either of them and now they were less than 10 feet away. So close he could almost smell them. Less than a dozen steps and he'd be in front of them again, could reach out and touch them. 

_Three years._

Three years and all he could do was watch. 

If it had just been John he might have done it. Walked over and stood in front of him. He didn't know what he'd say but he thought perhaps words would be unnecessary. 

Yes, if it was just John he might do it, John could handle it. But he couldn't do that in front of Verity. He didn't know if she'd remember him but she'd be scared by John's reaction if nothing else. So instead he sat and observed them, forcing himself to stay in his seat.

John looked much the same as he had the last time Sherlock had seen him. A bit older, greyer definitely. His cream jumper was new, but so John that it was almost familiar despite Sherlock never having seen it. Sherlock couldn't help the small smile he felt forming at his mate being so familiar even after all the time apart.

Verity though...different didn't even begin to describe it. When he'd gone she'd been not quite three. A tiny bundle of not quite child, not quite baby who'd fascinated him everyday as she'd experienced everything for the first time. When he'd left she'd just been talking more, starting to put thoughts together, starting to question things.

Now she was a proper little girl. Almost 6. Bright eyed and chattering. Making John laugh with whatever she was saying as she read through the menu.

He could hear her, the happy confident tone of her voice. He was too busy taking it all in to listen to the actual words she was saying.

He'd spent so long keeping his feelings locked away that he was horrified when his vision turned watery, furiously blinking it clear again. 

She was beautiful. John always said she was the perfect blend of both of them, Sherlock's dark hair and light eyes, John's nose, his face shape, his skin tone. Sherlock's height by the look of her. 

Would she have his intellect, he wondered. Before he'd gone she'd been bright. Above average the health visitor had said at one appointment that had left Sherlock unexpectedly smug. They'd made a smart baby. She'd been too young to have any proper personality at that age though. Now she'd have her own opinions, her own preferences and thoughts, entirely individual to her.

It was only his self control, made iron strong in the last few years, that kept him in his seat when all he wanted was to go to both of them. To touch them, to hold them close and breathe them in and cover them with his scent again until they smelled like they were his again.

His phone flashed and he frowned at the message from Mycroft. He was looking at it, contemplating his response for a moment as the sound of Verity's voice snapped his head back up.

"Daddy!" She shrieked, wriggling in her seat. 

For a heart stopping moment he thought she'd spotted him and recognised him. He was running through what he'd say to John when his stomach fell through the floor as a man he didn't recognise approached their table grinning at John, leaning down to kiss him with a quiet hello before turning and scooping Verity out of her seat making her giggle as he tickled her.

"Hello pumpkin," he said as he dropped into a seat, holding the squirming girl as she twisted around to face him.

"Daddy! I'm not a pumpkin," she grinned at him.

"Oh really? Well that's not what Papa told me," he said, throwing a grin at John who was smiling fondly at them.

As the little girl wriggled around to chastise a laughing John Sherlock felt sick.

She was _his_. 

His and John's. Who was this stranger that his daughter was calling daddy?

From the corner of his eye he could see his phone flashing again and briefly regretted not waiting for Mycroft to update him before he'd dashed off to get a glimpse of his family, too desperate for his first sight of them for almost 3 years to wait for Mycroft's update. 

He looked back at the table where his daughter was now back on her own seat, the interloper sitting opposite John, their chatting having returned to a normal indoor level that made it harder for him to hear what they were saying. He could, however, see them. He could see the smile on John's face that grew whenever the other man touched his hand. He could see his daughter beaming at the man she'd called daddy as he joked with her and John. 

He closed his eyes for a second, not wanting to see it anymore. 

They were _his_ , not this stranger's.

His strong, brave John who'd killed for him after knowing him for only hours. Who'd followed him into trouble gladly rather than reluctantly. His John who'd shouted a confession of his love for Sherlock during an argument weeks after Irene Adler had appeared in their lives. 

Verity was his even more so. She was half him. He was evident in her features. His little girl that he'd made with John. His baby who'd been so eager to join them that he'd had to deliver her into the world. He'd been the first to see her, first to hold her, the first person she'd seen, the first scent she'd experienced. 

And now they were someone else's.

His vision swam again as he pulled some cash from his wallet dropping it down on the table as he stood to leave. Grabbing his phone he turned to watch them for a moment longer, then turned and fled into the night.


	2. Then - Remember tonight for it is the beginning of always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how things start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first chapter of this was originally a stand alone work, and a sad one at that. But for some reason it just wouldn't get out of my head after I'd posted it, and after the comments on it, so I've written some more :-D
> 
> I'm writing it with flashbacks, so one chapter will be 'Now' and the following one will be 'Then'. I've got about half of it written at the moment, and I'll be posting two chapters at a time, and since I started with a 'Now' chapter I'll usually be posting a 'Then' followed by a 'Now'. I think it'll be about 30 fairly short chapters, but we'll see, it might end up running away with me!
> 
> Also, apols for putting this on Ch 1 and 2 but if some of you have read Ch 1 already you might have skipped over this edit on Ch 1!
> 
> Anyway, enough from me, here it is.
> 
> Thanks for reading, W :-)
> 
> \- - - - -

** Then **

Sherlock watched as John slept beside him. The older man had fought sleep for a while but their earlier argument which had rapidly descended into something much more heated and emotional had left John exhausted.

It was strange to have someone else in his bed. Despite what Mycroft and The Woman might think he wasn’t a virgin, but beyond a bit of experimenting while high he just hadn’t really seen the point of it all.

Even when faced with his growing feelings for John he hadn’t really thought that much about any physical aspect to his feelings. He wanted to be with John more than he’d ever wanted to be with anyone but he’d only thought about it in terms of companionship before. He wanted John with him on cases, at Bart’s, in Baker Street. He wanted John to always tell him he was wonderful and amazing, wanted John to tell him when he’d overstepped social boundaries and when things weren’t good. 

He knew that John’s omega scent was appealing, and that sometimes, usually only when he was very tired, he had the strangest urge to bury his nose in the space under John’s ear to get to the heart of the scent.

Despite all that he’d never thought he’d be interested in the way John’s breath caught as Sherlock had pushed his shirt off his shoulders. He didn’t think he’d be bothered about cataloguing all the things he could do to make John repeat the little whiney noises he made as Sherlock had kissed each bit of skin that appeared as John shed his clothes.

Even less than all that he never thought that he’d be the one gasping and moaning as John had kissed him and undressed him and touched him.

He bit his lips to control the smile growing on his face and sat up stretching as he felt the resulting aches from the night before.

"Mmm, where y'goin?" John mumbled sleepily, resting a hand on Sherlock's back.

"Making tea," Sherlock replied, looking over his shoulder at John.

John grinned up at him rubbing his eyes with his free hand, the other still on Sherlock's back.

"What?" Sherlock asked, frowning.

"Nothing, just...if I'd known that a good shag was all it'd take to get you to make tea then I would've suggested it sooner."

Sherlock rolled his eyes but couldn't help his grin as he fell backwards onto the bed next to John, poking him in a spot that he'd found to be particularly ticklish the night before.

"Hey!" John squirmed. "I thought you were going to make tea?" He held Sherlock's hand away from his side.

"Well _you're_ awake now," he said, pulling John's hand closer to him, forcing the man to roll toward him.

"Lazy," John mumbled, his smile ruining his attempt at chastisement.

Sherlock nodded, his eyes fixed on John's mouth. "So...it was...good, then?"

John smirked at him moving closer. "What's that?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and pinched John's side making him laugh.

"Fine, fine! Yes, yes it was good. You were there; I seem to remember being pretty vocal about it last night." 

As Sherlock's cheeks turned pink John grinned but he stopped himself from saying anything more about it for fear of Sherlock thinking he was mocking him. "I could show you again if you'd like, so you know what you're looking out for?"

John’s grin grew as Sherlock nodded and pulled him closer, all thoughts of tea swiftly forgotten.

\- - - - -

A few weeks later they were on a case, Sherlock and Lestrade talking to one witness while John waited with another.

"So you a detective too?" The witness, a big burly bloke from the gym that the victim had been a member of, asked him.

"Nah," John shook his head, not interested in making conversation.

"Didn't think so," he said, nodding. "Not really a job for a nice little omega like you."

John rolled his eyes hoping Sherlock and Lestrade would take this dickhead off his hands sooner rather than later. "Yeah, definitely not as suitable as say being a soldier - oh wait, that was my last job."

The alpha smirked at him. "Feisty, I like that."

"Oh shut up," John said rubbing his hand over his face.

"But you smell so good." The alpha was closer now.

John sighed fighting the urge to punch the guy, Lestrade would probably disapprove of him knocking out a witness. "Really? We’re having this discussion-"

Before he could finish Sherlock was between him and the witness.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked.

"Just having a chat," the witness said. "Didn't realise he was taken."

"What's going on?" Lestrade asked.

"Nothing," John managed before the witness interrupted again.

"Didn't realise he was spoken for, that's all, no bond see," he shrugged. "You gonna question me or what?" He asked as Lestrade looked between Sherlock and John.

"What? Oh, er, yeah, just go and wait with that policeman over there," he said gesturing the man away. He looked at Sherlock and John for a moment. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing that's any of your business," Sherlock bit out, his jaw clenched tight.

"When you almost get into fights at my crime scene it is."

John sighed again. "It won't happen again, sorry."

Lestrade looked Sherlock but if he was hoping for a fuller explanation he was left disappointed. Sherlock merely shrugged and headed off towards the potential witness.

"You and he..." Lestrade tailed off, a vague wave of his hand replacing the end of his sentence.

"Just leave it ok?" John sighed, shifting anxiously where he stood.

"But he-"

"Drop it will you? For fuck’s sake, you're meant to be questioning the witnesses not me!" John stomped off in the opposite direction to Sherlock and the witnesses leaving Lestrade gaping at him.

\- - - -

Later in a cab back to Baker Street Sherlock, steadfastly looking out of the window, spoke up.

"If you've changed your mind I won't hold it against you."

John's head snapped round to look at the other man. "What are you talking about?"

"This...thing between us. If you've changed your mind I won't be offended." He thought it best not to mention how he would feel.

Frowning John turned to face him more. "What? Sherlock, look at me. Why would you think I'd changed my mind?"

"You didn't seem to want Lestrade to know about us earlier."

John dragged a hand over his hair. "No, I didn't want Lestrade _questioning_ me about it. I just...I didn't...I wouldn't know how to describe it to him yet. I want a bit of time for us to get used to things first, that's all."

"Oh." Sherlock turned to look out of the window again, hoping his relief wasn't too apparent.

"Do you want to change your mind?" John asked, stretching a hand across the seat of the cab to touch Sherlock's.

Sherlock shook his head moving his hand to make just the barest contact with John's fingers. "So the brother did it, not alone though, we need to get to his flat to figure out who his accomplice was."

And that, John thought, was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Quote:
> 
> Remember tonight... for it is the beginning of always.
> 
> Dante Alighieri 


	3. Now - Even in the familiar there can be surprise and wonder

** Now **

"John! John, will you just listen to me?" Sherlock strode along a few paces behind as John marched away from him. His revelation had not gone quite as smoothly as planned, his bloody lip evidence of that. 

"I think you should leave," the man striding along between Sherlock and John said sternly. 

Sherlock ignored him.

"John, if you'd just listen I can explain-"

John stopped so abruptly that both Sherlock and the other man, John's _boyfriend_ Sherlock thought bitterly, nearly bumped into him.

"And what makes you think for _one second_ that I'm interested in your explanations?"

"John, please, I did what I did because-"

"Three years Sherlock! Three years!" John moved closer his voice dangerously low. "Verity's almost 6 now, she's had three birthdays while you've been off doing whatever was more important than staying here and raising our daughter-" John bit his lips together around a choked off sob. "Three **fucking** years! I think you owe me a bit of time."

"John, if you'd just listen-"

"Just leave me alone, Sherlock, I need...what the hell am I supposed to tell her? ‘Surprise sweetheart, Daddy's not dead anymore.’?!"

"John, I never-"

"Enough! I need to be on my own to get my head round this."

"Tomorrow then?" Sherlock asked hopefully. "Can we talk tomorrow?"

"I don't know, just...just...I need to think."

Sherlock nodded and didn't follow this time when John turned to leave, all his explanations left unsaid. 

Sherlock watched as a few paces on John stopped and turned to the man following him, _the boyfriend_. 

"Will, look, I just...I need to be on my own; you should probably stay at your place for a few days."

Sherlock tried not to be pleased about that, and about the revelation that they weren't living together. He wondered if that was what the man had been going to ask John this evening or if he'd been planning on going straight in with a bonding proposal. 

He watched as the man spoke to John quietly, before nodding stiffly and turning to walk away from John, shooting a harsh glare in Sherlock's direction. 

Ah, so he'd been going to suggest bonding then. 

Sherlock touched a hand to his lip, his fingertips coming away red and sticky, and couldn't help but be relieved that he'd come back now rather than later.

\- - - - 

John paid the babysitter the full amount, even though he'd come back early. After locking up behind her he moved quietly through to Verity's room. He sighed as he stroked her hair. How was he supposed to explain this to her? 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the headache that was building there behind his eyes.

With another sigh he curled up on top of the covers, cuddling his daughter through them, planning to only stay there for a moment. 

She stirred as he pulled her closer, turning over and opening one bleary eye. 

"Did you have a bad dream Papa?"

He managed a tight lipped smile at her stroking her back softly as she closed her eyes again. "Something like that."

She yawned and cuddled closer to him. "It's ok, dreams aren't real, just pretend," she mumbled, already mostly asleep again.

He shook his head softly, smiling at his five year old using words he’d said to her before. As he cuddled her closer he couldn't imagine how to explain to her that he wasn't sure if he wanted this one to be real or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title quote: 
> 
> “Even in the familiar there can be surprise and wonder.” 
> 
> ― Tierney Gearon 


	4. Then - It was shiny and new and the blade glinted bright in the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> Thanks for reading this and for the comments and kudos, they make me grin like a crazy person every time I see them.
> 
> Also, meant to say last time, these first few updates will be slightly scene setting so might feel a bit slow to start off with. 
> 
> Anyway, here are the next parts. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! W :-)
> 
>  
> 
> \- - - - -

** Then **

 

"Are you going to ignore me all the way back to London" Sherlock asked, watching John sitting opposite him, staring out of the train window refusing to look at Sherlock.

"Yep."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I thought we'd sorted this all out."

"You tried to drug me!" John said furiously, his head snapping round to look at the other man, momentarily forgetting he was ignoring him.

"But I didn't!"

John shook his head and turned back to the window. "You didn't know that though."

"John-"

"You told me I was more than a friend, told those bloody B and B busy bodies that a double room was exactly what we wanted, and you _still_ tried to drug me, tried to experiment on me!"

"I was watching you the entire time-"

"I thought maybe, just maybe, I'd get some kind of exemption from, from, from at least a little bit of the shitty way that you treat people." John turned away from Sherlock again.

Sherlock sighed and watched John for a moment. Eventually he stood up and moved to sit in the empty seat next to John.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I was wrong, and not just about the sugar." He dropped his hand to John's knee, his thumb stroking it softly.

John turned fractionally. "Say it again, nice and loud so I can remember it clearly."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and bit back a smirk. "I was wrong, I'm sorry." He squeezed John's knee. "Happy now?"

"Not especially, but a bit closer to it," he dropped his hand to cover Sherlock's on his leg. 

 

\- - - - -

 

John was trying to be quiet, Sherlock knew that. However, he wasn't managing to _be_ quiet, and Sherlock had only just got to bed 2 hours ago after 3 days on a case. 

"What are you doing?" He asked sharply, rolling over to glare at John. 

"Sorry, sorry, I was trying to be quiet. I'm trying to find my brown belt. I think in here was the last place I had it."

"You are _so_ loud," Sherlock moaned before burying himself under the covers again. 

John shot a half hearted glare at him. "You don't want to start a discussion about which of us is noisiest."

"It's not me that Mrs Hudson complained about," Sherlock mumbled pulling a pillow over the top of his head.

John blushed and stood up, turning to rifle through one of Sherlock's drawers. "That was one time, and it was your fault anyway. A ha! Why was it in with your pants?"

"For God's sake!" Sherlock sat up, the covers pooling round his waist. "Later we're moving your clothes down here so you know where everything is and I can get some bloody sleep!" 

"We're what?!" John said looking up sharply from where he'd been buckling his belt.

"You're in here all the time anyway. You can't find a thing. You've woken me up. We're moving your stuff." 

With that he dropped back onto the bed pulling the covers up, leaving John gawping at him.

"I'm going to be late," John managed eventually. "We'll talk about this later."

 

When John got home from work, he wanted to sit and read the paper and have a cup of tea in silence, having spent 8 hours listening to people complain about sore throats, runny noses and diarrhea. Instead he got home to piles of his clothes and Sherlock's scattered across the floor, the tables, the sofa, and most annoyingly his chair.

"Sherlock?" He called in what he hoped was his least impressed voice. When no reply came he stuck his head into both the bathroom and the bedroom before trudging upstairs, not finding Sherlock anywhere. With a huff he dropped down onto his old bed, one of the few places not covered in clothes. The thought of sorting all of the mess downstairs made him groan covering his eyes with his hands.

Before he knew it he was being shaken awake.

"Why are you sleeping up here?" 

John blinked as Sherlock crouched next to him, their faces close together. "Are you moving out of my room before you've even moved in?"

John shook his head disoriented. "Didn't want to tidy up, this was the only place to avoid the mess."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, stroking John's hair. "Idiot. It was all organised, I've put it away."

"Really?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.

Sherlock nodded. "Come on," he pulled John to his feet. "I'll show you how I've indexed your jumpers. Please try not to mess them up."

 

\- - - - -

 

"There's a picture of you wearing that hat in the paper again today."

Sherlock made a disgruntled noise but didn't look up from his microscope. 

"A 'Sherlock Holmes hat' they've called it," John chuckled, folding the paper in half. 

"You're mentioned in there too," Sherlock muttered still not looking up from his microscope.

"What? Am I?" He unfolded the paper skimming through the article. "...though rumours have been circulating that Watson's role might have shifted in recent months to focus on the _personal_ aspect more than the _assistant_ part of the role he has with Holmes." He looked up at Sherlock in disbelief. "They think I'm your sodding _personal assistant_?!"

"Mmm," Sherlock hummed, scribbling something down in his notebook.

"Personal bloody assistant!" He grumbled. "I'm a doctor not a secretary! I should make them correct this."

Sherlock finally lifted his gaze from the microscope to John. "You do understand what they're implying about us don't you?"

"What? Oh yeah, never mind about that-"

"You're not bothered?" Sherlock asked, brows furrowed together. "You've spent all the time we've known each other telling people that we're not a couple and now you're not concerned about newspaper speculation?"

John dropped the paper to the side of his chair. "Sherlock, when I told people we weren't a couple, that's because we weren't. I mean, I don't exactly want our private life all over the press but that's because I want us to have some privacy not because I'm ashamed."

"Oh."

"You thought I'd be upset?" John moved until he was stood behind Sherlock who'd turned his gaze back to the slide he was examining. 

"Mmm."

John let out a breathy chuckle before wrapping his arms round Sherlock's shoulders. "Idiot. I love you, I'm not embarrassed about us, it's just not something I want treated as newspaper fodder."

Sherlock had gone entirely still as John spoke and as he ran his words back through his head he realised what he'd said. 

"Oh, I, um...any chance you're going to ignore what I just said?" He asked, his arms still holding a very still Sherlock.

Eventually the detective shook his head. 

"Look, don't worry, I know you're not...y'know, a big fan of sentiment. I'm not going to go on about it or anything," he said, trying his best to sound reassuring.

Sherlock turned enough on the stool to wrap an arm round John. "Oddly with you I find myself not minding a _little_ sentiment quite as much as usually do."

John smiled and kissed him softly, knowing that that statement might be the closest he ever got to a gushing romantic confession, and being happy with it nonetheless.

 

\- - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote:
> 
> Love, he realized, was like the daggers he made in his forge: When you first got one it was shiny and new and the blade glinted bright in the light. Holding it against your palm, you were full of optimism for what it would be like in the field, and you couldn't wait to try it out. Except those first couple of nights out were usually awkward as you got used to it and it got used to you. - J. R. Ward
> 
> Also I’ve found the transcripts on http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/ beyond helpful with getting timelines straight in my head and knowing what’s going on!


	5. Now - That's the worst way to miss someone. When they're right beside you and you miss them anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: In this 'verse Sherlock's parents didn't know he was alive. Mean Sherlock and Mycroft!
> 
>  
> 
> \- - - - - -

** Now **

"I see you managed to keep a low profile for all of 10 minutes," Mycroft said dryly, waving one of the papers in Sherlock's direction so he could see himself on the front page. 

Sherlock ignored him, gazing out of the windows of 221b as if Mycroft wasn't there. He hadn't seen John since he'd agreed to give him some time. It had been days now, how much time did he want? Almost all his texts had been ignored and the few replies he’d received had been curt. 

"Is John at work today?" He asked, interrupting whatever Mycroft had been blathering on about. 

"How would I know?"

Sherlock raised one eyebrow at him.

"I'll tell you, and I'll tell you where he lives, in exchange for a favour."

Sherlock wanted to refuse, just to wipe the smug look off Mycroft's face, but his need to see John was greater than his need annoy Mycroft at the moment and he knew he had to go in the daytime when Verify was at school; John would never forgive him if he didn't have time to prepare her for seeing him again. 

"What's the favour?"

"Mummy wants you to go home for Christmas."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Fine." He could manage part of the day.

"That's not all. John and Verity usually spend Christmas with Mummy and Father, she doesn't want you to ruin that either."

Sherlock sighed. "I can't control what John does-"

"No, but you can try to get yourself on good enough terms with both of them that spending the day with them doesn't seem like a terrible prospect for them." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes again. "John will make his own choices-"

"Sherlock," Mycroft said standing up. "Mummy is still exceedingly angry with both of us for making her think you were dead. She wants you there at Christmas but if she has to choose between you and John and Verity, this year I am certain she'll choose them."

"But she's _my_ mother!" He said indignantly. 

Mycroft picked up his umbrella and turned to leave. "Yes, and Verity's grandmother. You haven't been here for 3 years, Sherlock, they have. Just try, for Mummy's sake."

"Fine." Sherlock dropped down into his chair. "Now text me John's address and schedule."

Just as Mycroft began down the stairs Sherlock's phone beeped.

"You're welcome," Mycroft called over his shoulder. 

 

\- - -

 

John tried to ignore the way his heart stuttered a bit at the sight of Sherlock on his doorstep. The man's face had been all over the news so it wasn't like he'd been able to forget about him, but seeing him again in the flesh was different. 

"Can I come in?" He asked. "I assumed Verity would be at school. I didn't want to scare her by just turning up."

John watched him for a moment longer, taking in the bits of Sherlock that had hardly changed, and the parts of him that seemed different. 

"Fine," he sighed, moving to one side to let Sherlock pass, leaning against the door for a moment as he locked it. He found Sherlock in his small living room, looking at the photos that adorned the shelves in the alcoves and above the fire place.

John stood in the doorway watching as Sherlock took in the photos, imaging all the deductions flying through his head. "I'll make us some tea," he said, though he doubted Sherlock heard him.

When he returned with the tea Sherlock had a photo frame in each hand, even upside down John knew them well. 

One was the last photo of Sherlock and Verity together. They'd been out at Sherlock's parents’ place a not long before he jumped. John had wondered afterwards if Sherlock knew what he was going to do, if he'd taken them there to give them happy last memories of him, and to see his parents one more time. They'd both been stressed before the trip, Moriarty weighing heavily on their minds, but they seemed to relax a bit, even though they only stayed one night.

Sherlock had taken John and Verity to a lake near his parent's cottage, where he'd often swam as a child. The photo showed Sherlock up to his shoulders in water, a grinning Verity in his arms, her bright pink arm bands glowing as she held a frog up for John, who was sitting on the bank with his camera, to see. They'd been so happy, all three of them, despite the dark shadow of Moriarty.

Less than two weeks later Sherlock had jumped off the roof of Bart’s Hospital and John's world had crumbled around him.

The other photo was the most recent one of her, taken of them at a fair just a few weeks before, during half term. Will was carrying her on his shoulders as she carried a giant ball of candy floss on a stick, John grinning up at her. 

"She likes him," Sherlock said, not looking up at John.

John nodded anyway, setting the cups down on the coffee table. "Yeah, she does. Thinks it's great that he can give shoulder rides, my dodgy one doesn't like it when I try."

Sherlock nodded still staring at the photos. "She calls him Daddy."

John looked up from the photos now, trying to figure out how Sherlock had deduced that. "That's a...a recent thing. The mum of a girl in her class got remarried in the summer holidays, the kid's been going on about her new dad ever since. Vee's obviously been thinking about it."

Sherlock nodded. "How long.. " he found himself unable to finish his thought. 

"About a month maybe, on and off at first."

"And you didn't stop her?" 

John frowned taking the photos off Sherlock and putting them back where they came from.

"I thought you were dead," John said, his back to Sherlock. "We all did, forgive me for not wanting to deny our daughter the closeness of a second parental figure."

"She's _my_ daughter-"

"And you were dead!" John shouted, turning back to Sherlock. "You were her _dead_ father - pictures on the walls, hazy memories, and stories from granny and grandpa! Don't you dare judge the decisions I've made while you've been gone, you _left me_ , so you have no right to an opinion."

"I didn't leave you-"

"You jumped off a fucking roof and made me watch! I've never seen a more direct way of leaving someone. You couldn't just tell me you'd had enough of-"

"There were snipers!" Sherlock shouted. "Four of them aimed at the people that mattered most. Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, you,-"

"No-" John breathed.

"-Verity."

John closed his eyes, swallowing against the nausea that swept over him.

"Either Moriarty called them off, or I jumped. I didn't expect him to shoot himself, and the risk of not jumping was...was more than I could risk."

John dropped to the arm of the nearest chair. He felt pale, sure all his blood had dropped to his feet. 

"Why did you make me watch?" John asked, his voice rough.

Sherlock watched John carefully, seeing the ways in which the man before him had changed, the extra grey in his hair, the wrinkles around his eyes. Worry, stress, so much of it caused by him.

"When Moriarty shot himself I knew if anyone in his network knew I was alive that you, Verity...you'd be targets until I made sure they were gone. You had to think I was dead so whoever was watching you would think I was too. I needed to be sure that they'd leave you both alone." 

"You could have told me-"

Sherlock shook his head. "I couldn't," he said, his voice more choked than he'd been expecting. "You and her...you're my world, and the only way to keep you both safe was to die so I could eradicate the threat."

John wiped at his face, damp with tears that were slowly leaking out of his eyes. "Three years, Sherlock..."

"I know." Sherlock dropped to his knees in front of him, sitting back on his heels. "It took _so much longer_ than I had thought. If I felt like I had any choice, John, I wouldn't have left you for a single moment."

"I could have helped you," John choked out through his tears. 

Sherlock nodded, his own face wet. "And I would have been quicker and better for it, but we couldn't both leave our girl could we?"

John squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of it all. "I can't just forgive you; you've missed so much...so much has changed."

Sherlock nodded swiping roughly at his tears. "I know. And I knew when I left that the risk I was taking was losing you both, but please please let me see Verity."

"Just let me think about how best to explain to her-"

At the sound of a key in the front door they both sprung apart, Sherlock turning to face the window, both of them wiping at their faces.

"John?" A man's cheery voice called. "Oh." He stopped in the doorway for a moment before moving toward John dropping a hand to his shoulder and kissing his hair. "You ok?"

"Yep, yeah."

"Is he causing a problem?" He asked with a glare in Sherlock's direction. 

"No, no. We were just talking."

"I was just going," Sherlock said when he felt like he had his voice was under control and his face was as normal as possible. "Let me know about when I can see Verity."

"You can't be serious?" Will said. "You walked out on her and now you just want to appear back in her life-"

"Will, leave it," John interrupted. 

"What? John come on, we talked about how confusing this will be for her-"

"It's really none of your business," Sherlock huffed.

"It's plenty of my business, thank you-"

"I don't think-"

"Enough!" John said with a wave of his arms. " _I'll_ decide what's best for my daughter thank you. Will, go and put the kettle on will you? Sherlock, I'll see you out."

With a dissatisfied huff, Will headed through to the kitchen and John ushered Sherlock toward the front door. 

Sherlock turned back when he was just over the threshold. "Please let me spend some time with her."

John sighed rubbing at his eyes again. "Just let me think about how best to handle it ok?"

Sherlock nodded and turned to leave.

"Sherlock?" John called and waited for the man to turn around. "I'm glad you're not dead."

Sherlock couldn't help his small smile. He sent a small nod in John's direction, turning to walk away, flipping his coat collar up as he left, forcing himself not to turn back to check if John was still watching him.

 

\- - - -

 

Sherlock couldn't believe he was already bored. He'd only been back for 10 days, how could there already be nothing to do? He sighed and threw himself down on the sofa, picking up his phone. Still nothing from Lestrade, despite him begging for cases and promising to provide thorough notes. Lestrade said there just wasn't anything, but Sherlock thought he was still being punished for having left.

Just as he was considering going to see Lestrade in person his phone buzzed where he'd placed it on his chest. Expecting another message from his brother he lazily swiped at his phone sitting up properly as he read the message from John. 

**Are you free today?**

Yes. Why? - SH

**If you come over now you can see Verity.**

There in half an hour - SH

 

\- - - -

 

"What did you tell her?" Sherlock asked quietly, stood close to John in the hallway of the flat, the soft sounds of someone humming coming from the other room. 

"We talked a few days ago, about how some bad people had made you pretend to be dead, but that it wasn't true."

Sherlock nodded. 

"I think she needed time to think it all over. I asked if she wanted to see you then and she said no, but when I picked her up from school I thought I'd ask on the off chance and she said yes, but I think she's feeling a bit shy and confused about everything so don't take it personally if you don't get much out of her, ok?"

"Mmm. Why isn't she at school?"

"Training afternoon."

"Oh." Sherlock looked at the doorway to the kitchen. "Is Bill here?"

John rolled his eyes. "No, _Will_ is at work."

"Does he know I'm here?" 

John shook his head. "Not yet.” 

Sherlock nodded again. "Right."

"Come on, let's go and see her." John walked through into the living room, Sherlock followed behind but stopped in the doorway, watching as John crouched next to the little girl who was busy colouring in at the coffee table. "Verity, do you remember we talked at lunchtime about maybe seeing Dad today?" 

She nodded but carried on colouring.

"Well I phoned him and he wasn't busy so he's come round to see us."

She stopped colouring, chewing on the end of her pencil crayon turning to look at Sherlock. After what felt like endless minutes she finally spoke. "Do you like colouring?" She asked quietly.

"Love it," Sherlock nodded, his voice thick as he swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"You can help then, but you need to take your coat off." With that she turned and pulled a green crayon out of the pot. "You can do the grass, it's a bit boring for me."

He felt his grin spread across his face as he pulled his coat off and dropped to sit on the floor opposite her. "Ok," he murmured, not trusting himself to get more words out around the tightness in his chest.

And even though their afternoon was a quiet one - Verity concentrating on her colouring book and saying very little - her occasional glances up at him through her lashes, and the way he sometimes saw her looking up at the photos around them filled him with hope that one day this shy girl in front of him would be the confident chatterbox that he knew she was.

\- - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote: 
> 
> "That's the worst way to miss somebody. When they' re right beside you and you miss them anyway.”   
> ― Pittacus Lore, I Am Number Four  
> 


	6. Then - Tomorrow is near yet so far away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> Thanks again for the wonderful comments and kudos, they really make my day every time! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy these two chapters too. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! W :-) 
> 
> p.s. no update next week as I'll be on holiday so it'll be two weeks from now before the next two are up

** Then **

 

John poured them both a large whiskey, hoping that the ice cubes were just water and didn't contain human tissue but too tired to care much as he dropped them in the glasses. 

"Here," he murmured handing one to Sherlock, stroking a hand over the man's dark curls. "You ok?"

Sherlock nodded, knocking back a big mouthful of his drink. 

John sank down into his chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he sipped his own drink, hoping the burning liquid would take some of the last two days with it.

"Are you?" Sherlock asked, his voice a low rumble.

John nodded, forcing his eyes open. "Yeah, just a tough one."

Sherlock nodded, dropping his head back. 

John stood up and crossed to kneel in front of him, hands stroking at his thighs. "What you did today was amazing," his voice was low in the quiet of the flat. 

Sherlock rolled his head forward looking down at John. 

"That family would have been destroyed without you," John carried on, his voice soft as he moved one hand to rub the back of Sherlock's neck.

"They still might be," Sherlock pointed out tilting his head against John's hand.

John shook his head with a tight smile. "No, they'll be ok. You made sure of that by bringing them back to each other. You saved them all. That omega, you saw the state of her, how long do you think she would have lasted without her mate and child? You heard her."

"If I was quicker they wouldn't have been so injured-"

"Sherlock, without you they'd be dead," John rubbed his neck, ducking his head to meet Sherlock's eye. "That omega would be broken hearted. Instead their family's back together. They'll heal and move on and that's because of you."

Sherlock sighed and leant further forward until his forehead touched John's. "All I could think about was what if it was you," his voice was so quiet, John knew it was painful for Sherlock to admit to such a sentimental weakness.

"I'm here," John whispered pulling Sherlock closer, kissing him softly. "I'm fine, I'm here. We're ok."

\- - - -

Later they lay tangled in the covers of their bed, John playing with Sherlock's hair as the man rested his head on John's chest. Sherlock appeared to be deep in thought and John was content to leave him to it.

"Did you ever think about it?" Sherlock asked, his cheek still pressed to John's chest. 

"About what?" John replied, his fingers still stroking through Sherlock's curls.

"Bonding. Breeding."

John bobbed his head thoughtfully, even though Sherlock couldn't see him. "Never seriously. I knew I wanted to join the army and as an omega you have to go on those military strength suppressors to join up. No bonding or breeding on those, they more or less turn you into a beta. Then I fell in love with a genius madman who's not that interested in it all," he finished with an attempted shrug before burying his fingers back in Sherlock's curls. "Besides, I'm not even sure if I could now," he yawned rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "Not after so long on such strong suppressors." As Sherlock hummed thoughtfully John tugged gently at his hair. "It's definitely time for sleep now," he said around another yawn, pulling Sherlock up to him. "Love you, try to sleep ok?"

\- - - - -

Three days later John was typing up the case for his blog. He'd been free of Sherlock's usual interruptions as the man was seemingly engrossed in his violin, composing John thought. 

After a few minutes of quiet Sherlock spoke up. "What if I was?"

"You're going to have to take me back a few steps in this conversation, love," John said, not looking up from his laptop, pecking away at the keys.

"Interested."

John shook his head still slowly typing. "Go on, one more step back."

Sherlock sighed as if John's slowness was painful to him. "What if I was interested? In bonding and breeding."

John's typing came to a halt but he didn't look up for a long moment, giving his head a little shake before twisting in his seat to look at Sherlock. "Wait...what?"

"The other day." At John's lack of response he continued. "You said you hadn't thought about it in the army, and then because you were in love with someone who wasn't interested but...what if I was?"

John stared, mouth open, at his partner as the words sank in. "You'd be interested in...that?"

"Only with you," the sincerity of Sherlock's words were apparent despite their brevity.

John gaped at him for a moment longer before shaking his head again. "I...can you give me a few days to think about this?"

John saw Sherlock's throat bob as he swallowed back whatever he'd wanted to say and nodded instead.

\- - - - 

In a display of very un-Sherlock like restraint he stuck to his word and didn't bring it up again. John could tell he was thinking about it sometimes, but for a change he kept his thoughts to himself and let John think. 

And yet, despite not being interrupted by Sherlock, and having a quiet week at work. John couldn't make sense of his thoughts. He'd never pictured himself with a mate and a baby, but there was something very appealing at the thought of being Sherlock's mate, of carrying Sherlock's child. The realities of parenthood were something different altogether, but if anyone could make it appealing it'd be Sherlock.

"I'm not saying no," he said one morning as he handed Sherlock some toast. "Just...I'll need to do a bit of reading, see if it's even possible or if so many years of super strength hormone suppressors have made it impossible. I don't want to get either of our hopes up."

Sherlock nodded, watching him carefully. 

"I don't really know where to start- wait, why are you looking at me like that...you've already done this research haven't you?" John ask, faintly exasperated, sitting down opposite Sherlock. 

"I just wanted to know the facts."

"Ok, go one then, hit me with them."

"You're sure?

John rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, get on with it, you've done plenty of token protesting."

Sherlock pulled his notebook closer flipping through a few pages. "Fine, Fine. Based on when you were in the army and the three probable brands used, there's a 1% chance you won't be able to form a bond or breed at all, a 3-4% chance that with medical intervention you might be able to bond, but still wouldn't be able to breed, and a...a 10% chance that you could bond without issue but not breed."

Sherlock looked up at an overwhelmed John. 

"Right...so...15% chance of problems...That's...it's not terrible."

"No," Sherlock agreed. "I've seen worse odds. I've gambled on much worse before."

John nodded before looking at him properly. "You're pleased about it."

Sherlock nodded fractionally. "I feared much higher percentages."

John broke into a wide grin which carried on into a laugh. 

"What?" Sherlock asked, his eyebrows furrowed together. "Why are you laughing?"

"You actually want this," John managed to get out, getting his laughter under control. 

"Why is that funny?" 

John managed to stop laughing but couldn't stop his grin. "It's not- I just...I didn't realise I was waiting for that reassurance, but...it's good, it's great." He reached out to squeeze Sherlock's hand where it rested over his notebook. "So what next? Doctors? Tests? Turn me into a human pin cushion and find out where I fall in those percentages?" He asked with a grin.

Sherlock's frown eased off at John's reassurances. "You could, but the tests are...invasive and uncomfortable."

"That sounds fun," John quipped dryly.

"Well, a lot of what I've read recommends just trying before having tests."

"Trying?" John blinked. That one word suddenly made it all seem real.

Sherlock nodded. "The consensus online is that it'll be apparent fairly quickly if there are any issues or not, and painful tests will have been avoided if there's no problem."

John nodded feeling a bit shell shocked. "Right..."

Sherlock's eyes flicked over John's face. When John said nothing more he carried on. "Are you ok?"

John nodded running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, just...I'd never considered any of this and now we've gone from talking about the idea of it to talking about trying. It's just fast."

Sherlock nodded turning his hand over to hold John's properly. "You know the two don't have to happen at the same time. We could bond first and then wait and think more about having a baby."

John nodded and squeezed Sherlock's hand again. "I appreciate you offering. You want both though-"

"I want you."

John smiled. "I know. But I think if we wait we'll just arrive at the same decision as now, but in a few months time, and frankly love, I'm not getting any younger."

"So that's a yes to...trying?"

John nodded feeling almost shy. "Yeah, seems like it. It'll take me a few weeks to come off the suppressors and then...just wait and see I guess?"

Sherlock nodded, looking the closest to stunned that John had ever seen. "Right," he said, still nodding.

"Yeah. Right. So...tea then?" He asked standing up and crossing to the kettle.

Sherlock nodded, then thought maybe he'd never stopped since John's last question. "Tea, definitely tea."

John grinned at Sherlock who threw a matching grin at him, the two of them dissolving into giggles. 

"The answer to everything," Sherlock laughed, glad of one normal thing in an utterly abnormal day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Quote: Tomorrow is near yet so far away - Stephanie Lahart


	7. Now - Stay in my eyeline

** Now **

Sherlock sat awkwardly in John's living room, his foot bobbing nervously. He stilled it when he spotted it, feeling ridiculous for being nervous. He'd spent three years chasing down and eliminating a dangerous criminal network and now he was nervous about a little girl not wanting to see him. 

He could hear John talking quietly to her, straining to hear what they were saying.

"...if you really don't want to spend some time with him sweetheart, then you don't have to."

"Will he go home if I say so?"

Sherlock's heart ached at the question. He thought they'd made a bit of progress last time, even if she hadn't talked much, it had been at least comfortable.

Today when he arrived she'd turned and run back into her bedroom, not saying a word as she slammed the door shut.

"Probably, but we invited him for lunch remember? It'd be a bit mean to send him away without any food wouldn't it?"

He could imagine her weighing up the options.

"Can he eat lunch in the garden?"

It was such a strange feeling to be amused but hurt at the same time. 

"Verity, we don't invite people over for lunch and then make them eat outside. Either we all eat at the table or we tell him we've changed our mind about lunch and then he'll go home."

"What are we having?"

He could almost hear John roll his eyes. "Toasties."

He heard a bit of shuffling before she spoke again. "Ok, he can stay."

"Great," John said, his voice sounding more distant as he moved around the kitchen. "Now please go and tell him we'd like him to stay and ask what he wants in his toastie."

With a sigh that Sherlock would have sworn was his own there was the sound of little feet and a small face appeared round the door frame. "Papa said you can stay and have a toastie inside the house." She disappeared before he could reply.

"Verity!" John called after her, exasperation clear in his tone. "She means you're very welcome to stay, and come through and tell me what you want in your sandwich."

As Sherlock entered the little kitchen/dining room Verity turned away from him, pressing her face against John's hip.

'Sorry,' John mouthed at him as he stroked their daughter's hair. 

Sherlock shook his head. "Should I..." he said quietly pointing toward the front door.

John shook his head and gestured at one of the tall stools in front of one of the counters. "What would you like on your toastie then?"

Verity looked round at him as he sat down before burying her face in John's side again.

John, wonderful, brilliant John managed to chatter away on his own as Verity whispered only to him and shook her head, and Sherlock remained mostly silent, torn between leaving to end Verity's discomfort and staying just to be able to see her. Eventually she ending up sat on John's lap as soon as they'd finished eating, burying her face in his shoulder and ignoring Sherlock who was chatting awkwardly to John.

"And what did Mycroft say about that?" John asked stroking Verity's hair.

At the mention of Mycroft she looked around. 

"You know Uncle Mycroft too?"

Sherlock nodded. "He's my brother." He bit his tongue around some of the more acerbic things he wanted to add to that statement.

"Oh." Her forehead wrinkled as she thought about it. "You don't look like him."

Sherlock smiled at that. "No he looks our father."

"Your daddy is my grandpa isn't he?"

Sherlock nodded at her. "That's true."

Then, as if remembering that she didn't want to talk to him she turned away and cuddled into John again.

"I um, I should go," Sherlock said, standing up. 

John nodded moving Verity onto her own seat as he stood up too. "Dad's leaving now, say goodbye please."

"Bye," she muttered, scrambling off the chair and running into the living room shutting the door behind her. 

"Sorry," John said. "She thought it was a good idea this morning...I'll talk to her."

Sherlock shook his head as he opened the front door. "Don't worry about it."

"It's not because it's you, Sherlock, she's just confused. I'll text you when she's a bit more receptive to seeing you again."

Sherlock nodded but found he didn't know what else to say so turned and left in silence.

\- - - -

"Hello darling," Mrs Hudson grinned pulling Verity in for a big hug. "How was school? Go through, I've made some biscuits, I don't think Papa will mind if you just have one."

John grinned as Verity shouted a thank you and ran through to Mrs Hudson's flat. 

"Isn't it wonderful John?" She asked looking up toward the upstairs flat.

"It's definitely something Mrs H. Is he in?"

She shook her head as she lead the way through to the kitchen, Verity already settled in the living room with a biscuit. "How's she taking it?" She asked as she dropped teabags into the pot.

"Hmm, so-so. She changes her mind a lot. At first she seemed ok, but the last couple of times he's been round she's hardly spoken to him, but she always says she wants him to come over when I ask."

"Poor little thing, must be so confusing for her."

John nodded as she poured the tea. "Mmm."

"And how about you?" She asked, sitting opposite him.

"Ah, well...I'm...I'm glad he's not dead..."

"What does Will make of him?"

"He...he's angry with him. Probably good that someone is, I can't seem to manage it for long."

 

Half an hour later Sherlock let himself in, ignoring the low mumble of voices as he headed up to his flat needing to think.

He paced for a few minutes before picking up his violin and launching into one of his favourite pieces. After 10 minutes he was in full flow, the familiar movements of his hands helping soothe his chaotic mind.

He turned around as the music slowed, freezing as he spotted a little face watching him round the door to the living room. 

"Hello," he said, his violin tucked under his chin. He took in the crumbs down her disturbingly multicoloured jumper and her lack of shoes. "Get bored with Mrs Hudson?"

She nodded before taking a few timid steps into the room. "How do you know how to play that?" She asked, eyes fixed on the violin. "It sounded like the radio at Uncle Mycroft's."

Sherlock smiled and moved a little closer crouching down to avoid towering over her. "I had lessons when I was your age and then I practised a lot."

She moved a bit closer holding her hand out. "Can I touch it?"

Sherlock nodded and held the violin in front of him letting her touch the strings and the neck. She smiled as she pinged one of them and it made a noise. She plucked at a few more of them, her smile growing. 

"Who gave you lessons?" She asked, leaning one hand on his knee as she looked around the violin still pinging the strings occasionally.

"My father at first, and then a teacher," he watched as she thought it through.

"Grandpa lives too far away to teach me doesn't he?" She asked leaning more against him.

"Probably," Sherlock said, drinking in the sight of her so close up. She looked so different, but still like a perfect blend of he and John. 

"You could teach me," she said, her voice decisive.

Sherlock nodded trying to hold back the buzz of excitement in his stomach. "I could do, if you'd like me to."

She nodded twisting around with both hands on his knee. "Can I hold it?"

Sherlock nodded and moved from his crouch to kneel. "It's a bit big, so I'll help you. Here, turn around," he guided her to stand in front of him with her back to him. "You have to tuck it under your chin like this," he positioned it gently under her chin, "then hold the end of it here," he guided her hand as far down the neck of the violin as it would go, grinning to himself at how close to the body of it she was. "It's a bit too long for you but on a smaller one you'd hold it further up. Then you use your fingers to press the strings here," he showed her how to do it, watching as she tried to stretch her fingers over all the strings.

"Then what?" She asked, her voice distorted by the violin under her chin.

"Then you move the bow," he held it up, "like this," he helped her hold it as best she could while keeping hold of it too. "And then gently glide it over the strings." With his hand surrounding hers they ran the bow over the strings.

She gasped as the first couple of notes rang out, twisting to grin up at him. "I played it!"

At the sound of a throat clearing in the doorway, both he and Verity looked up to see John standing with his hands on his hips. 

"Papa I played it!" She shrieked, twisting out of Sherlock's arms and running to John, wrapping her arms around his legs, grinning up at him.

"That's great, and we'll talk about it in a minute, but you didn't tell me or Mrs Hudson that you were coming up here, you need to tell a grown up if you're going somewhere."

"Oh, ok," she nodded. "I'm up here." She sounded so sincere about it that Sherlock could see John fighting a smile. "And I played it Papa, did you hear? Have you seen it before?" She let go of him to go back to the violin that a still kneeling Sherlock was holding. 

"Yes," John nodded a fond smile on his face. "I heard, it sounded great."

She nodded like she knew it was great, and plucked a string again. "Dad can play too, did you know that? He's going to teach me to play."

John looked down at Sherlock who tilted his head in agreement with what their daughter was saying, trying not to let his insides get carried away with the fact that she'd just called him dad for the first time since she was 2. 

"If that's alright with you?" Sherlock asked, Verity leaning on him again as they both looked up at John. 

"If you both want to that's fine with me."

"Yesss, I'm going to tell Mrs Hudson," she said heading for the stairs before turning back for a second. "I'll be right back Papa."

Sherlock watched where she'd disappeared for a moment, idly tapping at his violin, twisting the pegs to retune it where Verity's plucking had loosened them.

"You're really going to teach her?" John asked.

Sherlock turned his gaze back up to John who was still standing over him. "As long as she wants me to, yes."

John nodded. "That's...good. Um you could get up now."

Sherlock looked down at himself briefly, as if just realising he was still on his knees in front of John. He glanced up at John as he stood, spotting the faint blush and the way his pupils dilated. 

He tucked the image away for perusal at a later time and tried his hardest not to look smug. 

John was still attracted to him and God help him if that didn't feel like some kind of small victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Quote: Stay in my eyeline  
> Looking ahead, there is a chance  
> Wherever it all ends - Chvrches Under the Tide 


	8. Then - Warmed to the bone by the river

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> Here's the next two chapters. Thanks again for all the kudos and comments, super appreciate them all, and thank you so much for reading this!
> 
> Enjoy! W :-) 
> 
>  
> 
> \- - -

**Then**

The bond had happened easily the first heat they'd spent together. It was strong and sturdy feeling already, both of them proudly displaying the scars of their bond bites, Sherlock especially pleased that John had wanted to reciprocate, not all omegas did.

That John had been able to bond so easily was a relief to both of them, both more invested in the idea of it than they'd thought they would be.

Now six weeks on Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the bathtub as John leant against the sink. John had protested weakly when Sherlock had followed him into the loo but now that he was stood waiting he was glad to not be alone.

"That's three minutes," Sherlock said quietly still sat on the edge of the tub.

John nodded but didn't move, standing still. Sherlock quietly walked toward him, resting his hand on John's where it held the plastic test upside down.

"Shall we?" Sherlock asked gently.

John nodded and Sherlock guided his hand over, turning the test right side up.

They stared at it for a moment before John pulled his hand away, dropping the test in the sink.

"Sorry," he murmured, turning away from his mate. "I...sorry."

Sherlock retrieved the stick, dropping it in the bin before moving to John who'd sat on the closed lid of the loo.

"John, it was just one try it's not 100% for anyone."

John nodded and stood up. "I'm going to pop out for some milk."

"John-"

"I just need some air," he said as he headed for the hallway.

"Do you want company?"

John shook his head. "I won't be long."

With that he disappeared down the stairs leaving Sherlock alone and confused.

When he came back an hour later he wrapped his arms round Sherlock's shoulders, resting his chin his shoulder as Sherlock peered into his microscope.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just...I didn't realise how much I wanted it to be positive until it wasn't."

Sherlock nodded but didn't move until John sighed softly and started to pull away, then Sherlock wrapped one cool hand around John's wrist pulling it back around himself.

"It's ok," he said pressing a kiss to John's hand. "Now, look at this dust sample, tell me if you see anything odd in there."

John smiled and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's neck, grateful to the detective for his business as usual attitude.

\- - - -

"John, for God's sake, hurry up, we're meant to be on a crime scene!"

"Alright alright, hold your horses," John called through the closed bathroom door. He replaced the cap on the pregnancy test, resting it on the shelf over the sink as he washed his hands. They'd had three heats since this bonding one so the excitement of taking pregnancy tests had worn off slightly. He was only taking this one because Greg had invited him out for a pint and he thought he should check on the off chance.

"John, I am leaving right now!" Sherlock shouted, moving away from the door.

"Fine, fine, I'm here!" John called after him wiping his hands on his jeans. "For someone so lazy you're an impatient dick sometimes," he complained following Sherlock out of the flat and into a cab.

\- - - - -

17 hours later they made it back to the flat, John exhausted and starving, Sherlock triumphant and on the crest of the high of a solved case.

John dropped onto his chair unwrapping his chips, letting out a small satisfied moan as he ate the first one. "These honestly are the best chips in London," he called after Sherlock who'd gone into their room, not expecting a response and not getting one.

"Did you forget something in the bathroom John?" Sherlock called after a few minutes.

John could barely remember this morning, never mind what he'd left in the bathroom, but he had vague memories of doing a pregnancy test and realised that was probably what Sherlock meant. "Oh yeah, sorry, just chuck it in the bin will you?"

"No," Sherlock called back.

John rolled his eyes and carried on eating. "Fine then leave it where it is and I'll throw it out when I've finished eating."

"No," Sherlock replied again.

"Oh for God's sake," John huffed dropping his chips on the table. "You are so lazy sometimes!" He stormed in to the bathroom stopping at the sight of Sherlock holding the test. "What's wrong with you, just throw it away you're holding it anyway."

Sherlock turned to face him fully. "Did you look at this earlier?"

"Of course I- well no, actually, I got harassed by a madman who hurried me- Wait, why?" John asked, freezing in place.

Sherlock turned the test toward John. "Look."

John shook his head.

"Look," Sherlock said, holding it out and moving closer.

John looked up at Sherlock holding the stick out toward him but shook his head again, his stomach suddenly in a knot.

Sherlock stepped closer, leaning down so his head almost touched John's. "Look," he said softly, his free hand gently stroking John's neck. "We did it."

John slowly lowered his gaze to the test in Sherlock's hands and read the display. Two bold lines crossed the display.

Pregnant.

3 heats and almost a year after bonding and they'd finally done it.

Join grinned up at his mate nodding as his eyes filled with tears. "We've done it," John echoed. "About time hey?"

Sherlock leant down to kiss his mate. "I would have waited as long as it took."

\- - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote: 
> 
> Or how I am warmed to the bone by the river  
> And in the river, made a life  
> I'm your little life-giver  
> I will give my life 
> 
> Easy - Joanna Newsom 


	9. Now - Hope is a waking dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI for those of you not in the UK the restaurant chain Giraffe is a super family friendly, overly cheery type of place.
> 
> Thanks for reading, W :-) 
> 
>  
> 
> \- - - -

** Now **

Verity was off up the stairs of 221 Baker Street the second the front door was open enough for her to squeeze through, the sound of the violin apparent from the street.

John shook his head not even bothering to scold her about running up the stairs.

"Dad!" She shouted as she ran through the door of 221b, stopping just shy of his legs. "Did you get it?" She asked him, wide eyed and hopeful as she looked up at him.

A week ago he and Mrs Hudson had taken her to be measured for a violin. The one he'd wanted her to have had needed ordering in and the shop had called yesterday to let Sherlock know it had arrived and was ready to collect so he'd arranged with John for them to come round after Verity finished school the next day.

Now she was looking up at him like it was Christmas.

He smiled and nodded gently stroking her hair which was looking wild by this point in the day.

"Yes," he put his violin down on the coffee table and moved to pick up the small case from the desk. 

She was practically hopping from foot to foot with excitement as John appeared in the doorway. 

"Papa, it's here!"

John grinned at her excitement. "I can see that." He smiled at Sherlock as Verity turned back to him. "Alright?"

Sherlock nodded at him as he knelt down and opened the case to show her the violin.

She gasped as she saw it, reaching out a tentative hand to touch one of the strings, grinning as it pinged.

"It's just like yours dad."

Sherlock nodded and smiled. "It is, that's why I chose it." He was aware of John moving in his peripheral vision. "Here," he pulled it of the case and handing it to her. 

She looked at it for a moment, holding it out from her body. "What should I do with it?"

Sherlock smiled at her, hardly aware of John snapping pictures of them both on his phone. "Just hold it for a minute, get the feel of it. If you want to play it well you'll be holding it for a long time."

She held it out before shifting it to hold it more comfortably. 

"Now, tuck it under your chin, like this." He helped her position it in the correct way. "How does it feel?"

"'ud," she mumbled, her speech hampered by the stiff position she was holding.

He grinned at her holding the tiny violin. "Very good. Now, let's begin."

She'd tired after half an hour so they'd put the violin carefully back in it's box. Sherlock had tried to hand it to her but she'd refused it. 

"It needs to stay here with you," she'd told him. 

"But you'll need it to practice with."

She shook her head. "I'll practice here with you."

He looked up at John, confused about what to do. John simply shrugged and picked his tired girl up. 

"Ok then, for now it can stay here," Sherlock agreed setting it on the desk with his own.

She nodded and rested her head on John's shoulder. 

"What do you say to dad?" John reminded her as he got their stuff together to leave.

"Bye dad, thanks for the lesson," she yawned. 

He smiled and stroked her hair again, pressing a kiss to the messy curls. "You're welcome darling."

"See you later in the week," John said. "And thank you, she's been so excited about it. I hope her one wasn't as expensive as yours by the way."

Sherlock waved off the comment about the price. "See you in the week."

John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's lack of response to his money question. "Bye."

Sherlock wasn't sure if he was just being hopeful or if John actually was reluctant to leave, but he watched them as they walked down Baker St, until they were entirely out of sight. 

\- - - - -

"Why are you in a bad mood?" John asked that evening as he slid into bed next to Will.

"I'm not in a bad mood," he said, turning the page of his book more roughly than strictly necessary. 

"Right," John said in a tone that suggested he thought otherwise. "You've been quiet all evening."

"Well I could barely get a word in," he muttered not looking up from the book he was pretending to read. 

John rolled his eyes. "If you're talking about V, she's a chatterbox at the best of times and she was excited, I'm not going to apologise for that." He picked up a magazine from the previous weekend's paper. "You normally like our dinner time chats anyway."

"They're not normally all about Sherlock bloody Holmes," Will complained.

John dropped his magazine on the covers, turning slightly to face Will a little more. "That's what's put you in a bad mood?"

"He was the _only_ topic of conversation!"

John turned back to his magazine. "You're being ridiculous. And she went to bed almost three hours ago anyway!"

"All I heard for two hours was about _him_ ," Will said with a wave of his hand. "About what a bloody amazing musician he is and how wonderful and brilliant he is. It's only a sodding violin."

John sighed and folded his magazine away. "You sound ridiculous."

"Am I the only one to remember that he left you both for _three years_?!"

"Obviously not! But he's her father, I can't keep them apart because you're angry on our behalf!"

"Well someone has to be, it's as if everyone's forgotten that he let you all think he was dead!"

"Trust me Will, I definitely have not forgotten that _my mate_ made me watch as he jumped off a building!" John said harshly, getting out of bed and pulling his pyjamas on. "But I'm not going to deny my daughter a relationship with her father because I'm angry with him!"

"Where are you going?" Will asked as John grabbed a pillow. 

"To the sofa. Oddly enough I don't feel like sleeping next to someone who picks an argument over a little girl's excitement about a violin!"

"John, come on-"

"Leave it Will, I can't talk to you right now."

*

John woke up on the sofa not long after dawn with a little body climbing over him, a mass of wild curls tickling his face as his daughter pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Love you Papa."

He wrapped her up, and pulled her under the blankets. "Mmm, love you too sweetheart, why are you up? It's very early." He'd set his alarm for 6.30 to sneak back into his bedroom. 

"I'm not tired anymore Papa. Why are you asleep here? Can I sleep on the sofa too?"

"Mmm, I was snoring and didn't want to wake Will up. You don't snore so you don't need to sleep out here," he yawned until his jaw popped. "But how about we have a little bit more sleep out here now?"

He watched through one half open eye as she seemed to weigh it up. "Ok then. Just for a little bit though, I'm really not tired anymore."

Within 5 minutes they were both fast asleep again.

\- - - - -

"Do you sleep on the sofa sometimes too?" Verity asked in lieu of a greeting as she let herself in to 221b. Her papa had needed to talk to Mrs Hudson about something so had let her go up on her own. 

"Sometimes," Sherlock said turning to face her but not getting up. "Mostly thinking though. Why?"

She shrugged and sat on the coffee table opposite him poking at half a satsuma that was going stale where Sherlock had abandoned it. "Papa slept on the sofa the other night, he said I wasn't allowed to really but you're asleep on yours too, it's not fair that I can't too." 

Sherlock smiled at her logic and sat up. "I wasn't asleep, I was thinking." He stood up to get her violin for her. "Does Papa sleep on the sofa often?"

She shook her head. "I don't _think_ so, I've never seen him do it before." She followed him over to the desk and rested her chin on the edge of it. "What are we playing today?"

He couldn't help but grin at her serious face, as if they were on to concertos already and not just how to hold it. He wanted to ask her why John was sleeping on the sofa, but he could hear John coming up the stairs. 

John sent a tired smile in Sherlock's direction. "Hiya. Tea?" 

Sherlock felt an inexplicable wave of fondness at John's easy movements in his kitchen.

"Please," Sherlock nodded, helping Verity position the violin properly.

"Me too," Verity mumbled trying to get hold of the bow properly.

John rolled his eyes. "Nice try, how about..." he rummaged in some cupboards and then moved on to the fridge, "...looks like it's water or milk for you."

"Boring," she mumbled focussing on the bow still, her tone so like Sherlock's that John couldn't stop the grin he sent Sherlock's way as he poured drinks for all three of them. 

After half an hour Sherlock could see her tiring, her arms starting to drop. They wrapped up the lesson and she carefully packed away her violin. 

"We're going to Giraffe for tea, do you want to come?" She asked as John was putting her coat on.

"What on earth is Giraffe?" Sherlock asked, watching as John tensed at Verity's invitation. He wondered if Will was going and if John would put him off to avoid the awkward situation. 

"They do chips and there's a giraffe in your drink," she told him as if it was a good thing. "It's amazing."

Sherlock looked to John, a pang of sadness that he couldn't read John's every minute flicker of expression as quickly as he once had been able to. John looked like he was deciding whether to put Sherlock off or not, but a glance at their daughter's hopeful face seemed to decide for him.

"You'll hate it," he smiled up at Sherlock, still crouched in front of Verity, trying to get her mittens on her hands. "But you're welcome to come with us."

Sherlock hated the restaurant. It was bright and loud and ridiculous and there were far too many people there and everyone that wasn't John or Verity were idiots.

But on the short walk there Verity had slipped one mittened hand into his and babbled to him about things that had barely stayed in his mind, but the sight of her pink cheeks in the cold November evening, and the way she insisted he sit next to her in the booth made the noise and the ridiculous restaurant worth every second.

Stood on the pavement outside the restaurant Verity leant against John's leg, yawning and rubbing her eyes. 

"Friday ok for the next lesson?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded. "So is this going to earn you another night on the sofa?"

"Don't start," he said, the warm open look he'd been wearing slipping off his face.

"I'm not _starting_ ," Sherlock frowned. 

John rolled his eyes. "We've had a nice evening, don't do this."

"What?"

"Deduce me. Just keep it to yourself."

Sherlock sighed, the deductions pinging around his brain.

_Tired. Achy from not sleeping in bed. Recent argument. Anticipating another. Worried about Verity._

Sherlock frowned as he stopped himself, realising he was the cause of all the things he'd deduced.

"My apologies."

"Right, I better get this little girl home," John said managing a good attempt at a smile. "Say goodbye to dad."

She flung herself at his legs wrapping her arms round them, pressing her face to his hip. "Bye dad."

"Bye sweetheart."

"See you on Friday," John said. 

Sherlock nodded. "Hope I haven't caused too many problems."

Sherlock watched as they walked away feeling suddenly lonelier than he had in years.

 

\- - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Quote:
> 
> Hope is a waking dream - Aristotle


	10. Then - Best Foot Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, 
> 
> Super apologies for the lack of posting, I've been ill (poor me!) but I'm feeling lots better now so hopefully after this one normal weekend posting will resume! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy! W :-)

** Then **

8 days passed due and Sherlock had been forced to leave the flat for fear of getting throttled by John who hadn't taken well to Sherlock's attempts at being attentive.

He'd gone to the lab to run a few experiments that had been on his mind but had left earlier than he'd planned when the snow that had just been a few pathetic flakes earlier that day had turned into a proper flurry, the like of which traditionally brought London to a standstill in the way that only a city unused to and unprepared for snow could do.

The thought of a long, cold walk instead of a warm taxi ride sent him back to Baker Street.

The snow was already causing chaos it seemed, and the normal 20 minute taxi ride took him the best part of an hour, the taxi sliding to a stop at the top of Baker Street, the driver unwilling to try getting down the icy road.

"John?" Sherlock called as he let himself into 221b, relieved to find it warm. "Have you seen it out there?" He dropped his coat on the back of John's chair. "So predictable. A few inches of snow and the city grinds to a-" He cut himself off at a sound from the bedroom. "John?"

He stopped in the door way finding his mate clinging to the footboard of the bed, panting and sweaty.

"You're in labour," Sherlock said, frozen to the spot.

"Bloody great deduction there Sherlock, you should be a detective," John grunted through gritted teeth, dropping his head between his shoulders as the worst of the pain passed.

"I should- We- let's...hospital," Sherlock finally managed, "we need to get you to a hospital. The snow-" Sherlock managed to force himself to move, grabbing the overnight bag that had been on John's side of the bed for weeks.

John shook his head. "Not yet, I rang the midwife, they said I've got ages to go yet so might as well wait some of it out here."

"John, I really-"

"Just run me a bath will you? The midwife said that'll help."

Sherlock watched as John struggled to pace around the bedroom for a moment, he'd read about what to do when John's labour started but now that he was faced with the reality of it none of what he'd read seemed to make sense.

"Bath, Sherlock, please. Not hot, just warm."

John's clipped tone brought him back to the situation a little and he hurried through to the bathroom.

When it was full enough he helped John into the tub, rolling a towel behind his neck.

"How's that?" He asked, crouching down beside it, facing John as he held one of his hands.

"Hmm, still hurts, a lot, but I'm a bit more comfortable," he muttered with a squeeze of Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock nodded. "Is there anything I can do?"

"'Fraid not love, but...don't go too far ok?"

Sherlock nodded and kissed John's hand softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Twenty minutes later John felt like walking around the flat might help more than lying in the tub was.

"We should go to the hospital soon I think," Sherlock said as he helped John into his dressing gown. "The snow's really sticking, we might be better calling an ambulance, my cab was struggling earlier-"

John shook his head as he started to slowly pace rubbing at the base of his spine. "Ungh, no, I don't want to waste an ambulance's time."

"It's not wasting time-"

"Sherlock," John managed through gritted teeth.

"Fine, fine, maybe Mycroft can make himself useful for once and send a car," he patted at his pockets one handed trying to find his phone. "I'm just going to call him, ok?"

John nodded, barely registering Sherlock's attempt at a soothing back rub before he moved through to the bedroom in search of his phone.

John could hear the low murmur of Sherlock's voice as he slowly made his way around the living room, he'd just made it back to near his chair when he stretched to relieve the tightness in his back slightly, feeling a brief second of the pain easing off followed by a small popping sensation and then a strong flow of something down his leg.

He stared down at the growing puddle at his feet. _Mrs Hudson's going to kill me for getting that all over the rug_ , he thought briefly before the pain and realisation kicked back in.

"Sherlock," he called. "Could you bring some towels please," he gasped out, clinging onto the back of his chair as the pain swept over him.

"Towels? What do you need-" Sherlock froze in the doorway, "Shit." He dashed back into the bedroom coming back with all the towels they had, dropping one onto the damp patch on the carpet. He rubbed John's back. "I'm calling an ambulance now."

John grabbed his hand as Sherlock moved to get his phone. "Don't leave me," he ended on a groan, his grip tightening on his mate's. "Please, please."

The pleading tone of John's voice and the grip on his hand made Sherlock move closer to him pressing a soft kiss to John's face, brushing his hair back.

"Shh, shh, it's ok, I'm here. I think I should call an ambulance though, this is moving very fast-" he couldn't finish as John cut him off with a moan, his knees buckling, leaving him kneeling over the arm of his chair.

"I think it's happening now Sherlock, I can't do this, I can't-" again he couldn't finish his sentence as a strong contraction hit him. When John could talk again he pulled at the tie off his dressing gown. "I'm too hot," he mumbled, moving his arms as Sherlock pulled it off him.

"John, I really need to get my phone, we need an ambulance." Sherlock sounded as close to panicked as he'd ever been, dashing to get his phone as John nodded weakly at him.

Without thinking he sent a message to Mycroft as he hurried back into the living room.

_Ambulance, 221b, now._

He dropped his phone on the sofa as he moved to stroke John's back, crouching next to the omega as he panted and clung to the arm of his chair.

"Sherlock, I think the baby's coming now," he moaned dropping his head to his arms. "It feels really low down." He turned to face Sherlock, his cheek pressing against his arm. "You've got to do it."

"What?! John, no, the ambulance will be here soon-" Sherlock tried to fight the panic growing inside him. He couldn't deliver a _baby_.

John shook his head squeezing his eyes shut. "Sherlock, I need to push," he groaned feeling the contraction wracking through him.

"Well, just... _don't_!"

John shook his head. "Don't really get a choice about it," he managed through gritted teeth.

As John gasped and groaned through the contraction the sound of his mate in pain seemed to pull Sherlock together a little. "I don't know what I'm doing John, tell me what to do and I'll do it." He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, rubbing John's back carefully.

"When, when the head's out check...check the cord's not round the neck, argh, then support...the head and wait for the rest to come out."

Sherlock nodded, leaning in to press a kiss against his shoulder. "You make it sound so easy."

John managed a choked gasp of a laugh before dropping his head down between his shoulders. "You'll need to look, see if you can see the baby." He panted. "Thank god you're not squeamish."

Sherlock refrained from telling John exactly how close to being squeamish he was right now, and how seeing John in pain was worse than anything he'd ever felt. "I can see it John! I can see the head."

John nodded, not able to get any other words out, his knuckles turning white on the edge of the arm chair, the urge to keep pushing overcoming him, his instincts taking over.

Sherlock talked constantly to him through the next few contractions, everything happening so much faster than he'd expected.

"That's it John, keep going, you're amazing, the head's out, I can see our baby, John, oh my god-" 

"Cord," John croaked, panting and exhausted. "Check it."

Sherlock hurried to check, trying to be careful with John as he did so. "I don't think it's wrapped, I think it's ok."

John nodded but couldn't respond as the need to push took him over and his body followed it's instincts.

"Oh god, John, you're fantastic, keep going, our baby's nearly here," Sherlock was supporting the baby's head and shoulders, shifting his hands to hold on as his child entered the world, warm and slippery, and then, all of a sudden, the baby was out, a brand new life that he and John had made held in his hands, the scent of his child thick in the air, new and familiar all at once.

John gasped and opened his eyes, dropping back onto his heels as Sherlock passed the baby up to him, keeping one hand on the baby's back as John held it against his chest.

"Why isn't it crying?" Sherlock asked, fear obvious in his tone, his eyes wide and glued to the tiny purple body in his mate's arms. "John, why isn't-" He shifted his gaze to John who felt frozen in that moment, exhausted and panic stricken and his child still and unmoving in his arms.

John was still panting hard as he pulled the baby closer to him. "Dry it off, Sherlock. Towel, hurry."

Sherlock grabbed one of the towels he'd brought in when John had called for one earlier. He draped it over the baby and John's hands, rubbing briskly at the damp limbs and back, drying the baby off and hoping with everything he had that he'd get a response. Just as his panic was on the edge of overwhelming him, the baby under his hands squirmed and let out an ear piercing cry, the sound prompting a half sob half laugh from John who's eyes were now firmly back on the baby. Sherlock felt light headed, as if all of his blood had dropped out of his head at the baby's silence and now was all trying to get back to the right places at once.

"Hello," John grinned, tears covering his cheeks. "Hello baby, our little impatient- wait, is it a boy or a girl?" He grinned up at Sherlock before looking back at the baby.

"Oh! I didn't check," Sherlock said, wiping his face with the clean back of his wrist.

John grinned at him, his face still wet and shiny with tears, and carefully tilted the baby back in his arms. "Check then," he said to Sherlock before murmuring softly to the baby who's cries had picked up at being shifted away from the comfort and warmth of John's chest.

Sherlock gently lifted the make shift towel blanket before dropping back on his heels, his hand on the baby's back, feeling his grin spread across his face before he leaned in to kiss John softly.

"A girl," he whispered, his forehead against John's temple looking down at their baby. "We've got a daughter." Sherlock stroked her back softly through the towel as John murmured and cooed at her.

"Hello beautiful girl, you were a bit keen to get here weren't you?" The omega said, his joy and emotion written in his every action and obvious in his voice.

Sherlock tore himself away from John's side for a moment to grab his dressing gown helping him to ease it on, and move to sit more comfortably. He sat beside his mate, as he wrapped his arms around him and their child, watching in fascination as his daughter <em>(he had a daughter!)</em> snuffled against the new softness of John's chest, her own instincts guiding her.

"I love you," Sherlock whispered softly in John's ear as the omega leant against him. "Both of you."

John grinned at him, tearing his eyes away from the baby for a second to grin at his mate. "Love you too."

Eventually they were disturbed from their peaceful moment of family bonding by the arrival of a midwife and the paramedics, both of whom were stunned that the baby had arrived so quickly. After a couple of hours and a thorough examination for both John and the baby the midwife declared them both healthy, booked in a time to come back and see them the next day and left the stunned new parents to it.

Sherlock sat on the bed, John pressed against his side, their baby wrapped up and in John's arms as they murmured softly to each other, often distracted by any movement or shift in expression from the baby, her tiny actions thrilling them both more than they would have thought possible.

"Mrs Hudson's going to go bananas when she gets home," John grinned stroking their baby's hand

"I imagine she'll stay at her sister's tonight given the snow."

John nodded, finally tearing his gaze from the baby to lean in and kiss his mate. "Seems like a sign of things to come huh?"

"What's that?"

John's gaze dropped back to the baby. "That she arrived in the midst of the most extreme weather so far this winter and gave us no time to prepare," he beamed at the baby. "Already making us do stuff on her terms."

Sherlock grinned at him. "She's half you and half me, did you really expect anything else?"

John shook his head softly, grin on his face that he was sure would take a long time to fade. "Not at all, and I wouldn't want it any different."

 

\- - - -

 

Mrs Hudson had indeed gone bananas as John had predicted.

When she'd got back to Baker Street late the next morning Sherlock had gone down to meet her and told her that he and John had a surprise for her, refusing to give her any further clues, grinning to himself as she complained that if the surprise was another hole in her wall she wouldn't be pleased at all.

Her gentle complaining came to an abrupt end as Sherlock ushered her into the bedroom. She froze just a few steps inside the room, Sherlock close behind with one hand on her shoulder.

"Surprise," he murmured, grinning over her shoulder at John and the baby who were wrapped up in bed.

"Oh boys! What- When- What?!"

Sherlock grinned and ushered her closer to the bed as John gave her the short version of the events of the previous day.

"Sorry about the rug," he grinned at her as she dabbed her face with a tissue.

"Oh silly!" She laughed, peering down at the baby again "Oh boys, she's beautiful. Have you got a name for her yet?"

Sherlock nodded stroking the baby's hair softly. "Mrs Hudson, meet Verity Sophia Holmes."

"Lovely," Mrs Hudson managed around a fresh wave of tears. "Just lovely, does it mean anything or are they just names you like?"

John smiled. "Truth and wisdom."

"Perfect," Mrs Hudson said with a squeeze of John's hand. "Absolutely perfect."

 

\------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote - 
> 
> A first child is your own best foot forward, and how you do cheer those little feet as they strike out.
> 
> Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible


	11. Now - Some Other Beginning's End

** Now **

"Papa, are you ready yet?" Verity asked impatiently, pulling on her hat and gloves so she'd be ready as soon as her Papa was even though it was really too warm in the flat to have them on.

"Very, I've told you three times, we're not leaving until 4.30, you know what the clock looks like a that time, so please don't ask me until then," John scolded absentmindedly as he carried on poking around in cupboards and the fridge making a shopping list as he did so. "And if I find your uniform scattered all over your bedroom floor there'll be trouble." Despite himself he could feel a smile forming as she huffed and pulled off her hat and gloves dropping them on the sofa before trudging toward her bedroom.

He was finishing off his list as his phone beeped with an incoming message.

 **On a case, won't be back until tomorrow. - SH**

John sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Verity was going to be devastated. 

"Verity, can you come here please?" 

Her excitement as she ran through to the living room made John's stomach sink. She'd been looking forward to her violin lesson with Sherlock for days.

"Is it time?" She grinned, starting to pull her gloves back on. 

"Sweetheart, I'm really sorry, but Dad's still at work, he's not going to be back in time for your lesson," he said gently, his heart aching as her little face fell. 

"But it's the right day, maybe he just forgot it was today, you could text him to remind him and he'll come back?" 

She looked so hopeful that John hated to be the one to disappoint her.

He shook his head. "No princess, he's going to be at work all night, he text me to tell me." He frowned as her bottom lip started wobbling. "But hey, why don't we go out? We could go to the cinema, or bowling-"

"No," she said, her face wet with disappointed tears as she pulled her hat off. "I want to have my lesson." 

"I know sweetheart, and I'm sure Dad's sad to be missing it too-"

"I hate him!" She sobbed, dropping her gloves on the floor before turning to run from the room, a slam of her bedroom door following after her. 

John pinched his lips between his teeth as he heard her little sobs coming from her room. He picked up his phone to give her a moment to let out the worst of her frustration.

_I've let V know, she's really disappointed and upset._

He knocked softly on her door before letting himself into her bedroom, the sight of his little girl lying face down over her bed, her shoes carefully not on the covers, as she sobbed into her favourite stuffed monkey made his heart break a little bit. He sat down next to her stroking her back before pulling her up onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder.

He gently eased her arms out of her coat and pulled her shoes off trying to make her a bit more comfortable. "Oh darling, I'm sorry you're so upset, I'm sure Dad's upset about missing your lesson too," he said softly stroking her hair.

She shook her head against his neck. "I don't think he is, or he wouldn't be at work would he?" She snuffled against his neck. "Maybe he just doesn't want to see me." 

John pulled her tighter to him, kissing her hair. "That's not true at all sweetheart, not at all. Dad loves you more than anything and he would much rather be with you than at work." John only hoped that what he was saying was true. "It's just that Dad's work isn't like mine or Will's where we always have the same time off, he has to work when the police need him to help them find the bad guys."

She pressed her face harder against his neck, holding on to him tighter. 

"I know it's disappointing Very, I know it is, but Dad loves you so much, he'll definitely be sad to not be spending time with you now." 

He held onto her as her sobs subsided to quiet sniffling, stroking her hair and murmuring soft comforting noises to her. 

"Do you think Dad was sad when he was dead?" She eventually asked, voice quiet and tired.

John closed his eyes and rested his cheek on her hair, feeling his own sadness about the last three years well up. "Yeah," he croaked out, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I think he was." 

"Do you think he missed us then?" 

John nodded giving her a squeeze. "Yeah, I think so sweetheart, I think so." 

They sat in silence for a little bit, both taking comfort in the closeness of the other. When Verity seemed to have calmed down John kissed her forehead leaning her back a little bit. "Now, do you want to do something just us tonight? We could go out, we could watch a film here and have a pizza?" 

She nodded and smiled softly. "I'd like pizza."

He squeezed her tightly kissing her hair again. "Ok, let's do that."

She'd fallen asleep not long into the film and was still asleep with her head on his lap when Will had arrived. 

"Hi," he'd smiled kissing John gently. "She ok?" 

John nodded and sighed. "Sherlock had to cancel her lesson because of a case, she was really upset." 

Will frowned and visibly stopped himself from saying whatever had first come to mind. "Is she feeling better now?" 

John nodded. "Mmm, so-so, pizza and a bit of a film with singing animals cheered her up a little, but I think she's more unsettled and confused about Sherlock being gone than I thought." 

Will sighed leaning on the back of the sofa. "Understandable."

John nodded. "Oh there's pizza in the kitchen, I let her pick the toppings so they're a bit random but not bad." 

Will nodded again but didn't move. "Do you think it's a good idea for him to see her so much, if him cancelling upsets her like this?" 

John turned away. "Will, she was crying this afternoon because she thought he didn't want to spend time with her. Less time with him isn't the answer." 

Will moved into the kitchen. "Just wanted to put it out there."

John sighed and stroked her hair softly. "I think I just didn't do a very good job in explaining things to her." 

Will scoffed as he sat in the arm chair closest to John. "It's not exactly something that there's a lot of advice out there about is it? 'Dear Deirdre, my child's father has come back from the dead, how do I explain this to her in a way that won't confuse and upset her?'" 

John smiled weakly. "No, I suppose not. Here, help me up and I'll put her to bed, then maybe we could watch something without singing creatures?"

Will nodded dropping the topic of Sherlock Holmes for now.

\- - - - 

The next morning John woke up to a text from Sherlock

 **Can I come and see you and Verity today? - SH**

John thought about it for a moment. A big part of him wanted to say no, wanted to not risk Verity getting upset again and just wrap her up and keep her away from the confusing mess of feelings that Sherlock seemed to provoke in anyone he was around. A bigger part of him however knew that keeping her away from Sherlock was only going to confuse her more.

"Problem?"

John jumped at the sound of Will's voice. "Oh, what? No. Sherlock wants to see Verity today." 

"Right," Will said, lips pursed. "And what are you going to say?"

"I don't know."

Will nodded, his face consciously blank. 

"You don't think it's a good idea?" John asked, leaning back against the pillows.

"You know what I think," Will said with a roll of his eyes.

John nodded slowly. "Yeah, I just...I think he needs to explain to her why he cancelled yesterday and apologise himself."

"Well...you might be right on that part," Will conceded. "I just hate him upsetting her."

"I know," John smiled pulling Will closer. "I know, and I love that you've got her best interests at heart"

"Yours too," Will added, squeezing John gently.

"I'll tell him to come round after school, I think she'll be more comfortable here."

Will nodded and kissed John's hair as he got out of bed. "Wonderful, another night revolving around Sherlock Holmes."

John sighed as he got out of bed too. "You don't have to be here this evening, you do still have your own flat." 

As soon as he saw Will's hurt expression John regretted his words. "Will, I'm sorry, really, look, I just-" 

"It's fine. I think it might be best if I stay at mine tonight anyway, if I see _him_ here I might just tell him exactly how unimpressed with him I am." He was busily getting his bathroom stuff together and pulling out clothes for himself. "I'll get Verity up and let her know I'll see her tomorrow."

"Will, come on, please just-" John's words died in his mouth as the other man walked out without looking back at him. He dropped back onto the bed with a sigh grabbing his phone.

_Fine, come round after school, we'll be home from about 3.45._

\- - - - -

Sherlock found himself oddly nervous once again as John opened his front door, the look on John's face doing little to ease his mind.

John stood back to let him in without saying a word.

"You're angry with me," he said.

John rolled his eyes as he pushed the front door shut. "It's not me you need to worry about."

Sherlock nodded as he looked down at his feet, not wanting to see the look on John's face again. "Did she know I was coming over today?"

"No," John said with a shake of his head. "She's just getting changed out of her uniform otherwise she'd have been at the door already. She was really upset Sherlock, and she's really confused still about when you were away." He sighed as he made a helpless gesture. "I don't know what to say to her so...I think you need to talk to her, try and get her to open up a bit about what's confusing her."

Sherlock nodded but before he could say anything more Verity was calling through the kitchen as she trotted through from her room. "Who was at the door Papa- oh." She stopped in the doorway to the hall her smile turning into a frown. She looked behind her as if contemplating running back into her room but John had dropped to crouch in front of her before she could move.

"Dad's come to explain why he couldn't do your lesson yesterday and to have a bit of a chat. I'm going to make some drinks and get you a snack, will you talk to him for a bit?"

She looked up at him dolefully before sighing and nodding.

"Good girl," he murmured pressing a kiss to her forehead and nudging her toward the living room. He nodded toward the living room as he glanced over his shoulder at Sherlock. "I'll bring some tea in in a minute."

Verity was pulling some toys out of a big pink crate by the time Sherlock made his way into the living room. He watched for a moment as she lined them up as if their order was obvious. He eased off his coat dropping it over the arm of the nearest sofa before dropping to kneel next to her. 

"What's this for?" He asked, picking up something that looked like a cross between a wand and a hair brush.

She took it off him and carefully set it back in its place. "It's for plaiting hair. I'm only allowed to use it on dolls though 'cos I got it stuck in my hair last time and Papa took _ages_ to get it out." She turned away from him as she got more things out, clearly trying to not look at him.

He waited silently but she didn't look back at him. 

"I'm sorry I missed our lesson yesterday," he said sitting cross legged next to the toy box. She stilled a little but didn't look at him. "I had to go and help the police and it took longer than I thought. I should've told you myself though, and I'm sorry I upset you."

She sat back and looked up at him. "Were they bad guys like Uncle Greg catches?"

Sherlock nodded, hit with the sudden memory of her trying to say Uncle Greg in her baby voice not long before he'd jumped. He'd forgotten that she'd called Lestrade that. 

"Yes," he nodded. "Actually I was helping Lest- _Uncle Greg_ yesterday."

"Why couldn't he catch them by himself?" She asked twisting the arm of one of her dolls around as she frowned down at her bare feet.

Sherlock fought back a smile flicking through the pages of one of her books that she'd set out with the toys. "I think because he's not very good at his job."

"That's not a nice thing to say."

He smiled at her. "Sometimes criminals hide too well and Le- Uncle Greg, needs me to help him look."

She thought about it for a while, pulling the bottom of her jeans over her toes. "But you were supposed to be doing my lesson."

"I know, but sometimes bad guys are so bad that we have to find them as quickly as possible so they can't do any other bad things." He watched as she thought about it, still squirming and avoiding his eye.

"Papa said you'd rather have been at my lesson," she said, finally looking up at him. 

The sad doubtful look on her face made Sherlock frown and without thinking about it he pulled her onto his lap wrapping his arms around her.

"I would rather have been with you than anywhere else," he said honestly, holding her close to him as he rested his cheek on her hair. "Always remember that."

She sat stiffly in his arms for a moment before snuggling back against him tucking her head under his chin. They sat quietly for a while before Verity spoke again.

"Did you miss me and Papa when you were pretending to be dead?"

He squeezed her tighter and nodded. "Yes, every day."

"Did you want to come back sooner?"

He nodded again, hating the catch in his voice when he spoke. "Yes, but I had to make sure the...bad guys were gone before I could come home."

She nodded and snuggled against him. "I missed you too." His heart ached at her words. "Are you going to come and live with us now?"

Sherlock didn't know what to say. Just as he was opening his mouth and hoping something that wouldn't cause trouble would come out John came bustling in with a tray. 

"Ok," he said overly cheerily. "I've got tea for the grown ups and juice and a chocolate biscuit for Verity."

Ah, so he'd heard then. 

Verity was off his lap and opening the biscuit within seconds, all thoughts of whether Sherlock was going to live with them vanished in the face of a Penguin.

He looked up at John to find that he was staring at him, though he quickly looked away when Sherlock saw him.

"Um...biscuit?" John asked holding out the plate.

Sherlock nodded taking one.

"Very, why don't you show Dad your book from school with your stickers in?"

She nodded eagerly. "I'll be right back."

John grinned at her retreating form. "I don't know where she's picked that phrase up from." He looked back at Sherlock. "Did it go ok?"

"I think so. We...talked, she let me hug her."

"That's good, really good. I know...I know the work is unpredictable but if you can really try to not...y'know, cancel at the last minute," he said with a raised eyebrow.

Sherlock nodded putting the biscuit back on the plate. "She asked if I'd missed her, as if I hadn't spent every day of the last three years wishing I was with you both."

John looked away Just as Verity came back in, grinning as she held out her book to Sherlock. "They're all in the back, I've got the second most stickers. Amy H only has more because she broke her leg and got stickers to cheer her up while she was ill."

\- - - - -

An hour later after Verity had shown Sherlock every bit of school work she'd got and after he'd beamed with pride at how clever she was she was sat back in his lap, her back against his chest as she talked him through her story book. 

"Are you going to stay for dinner?" She asked tilting her head up to him. 

"Oh, um..." He looked across at John, shrugging at him.

"You're welcome to stay," John smiled, and for the first time Sherlock felt like he actually meant it.

\- - - - - -

"No Will tonight?" Sherlock asked when they were sat eating.

John shook his head but before he could say anything Verity had piped up.

"He's at his house tonight. He said he's had his fill of reckless detectives and people with short memories," she looked up from where she'd been trying to stab as many bits of sweetcorn as possible onto her fork, puzzled expression on her face. "I think maybe that was about a film he and Papa watched?" She shrugged as she shovelled the corn into her mouth.

Sherlock frowned as he turned to John.

"Don't," John warned. 

"I didn't say anything," Sherlock said, trying and failing to keep his expression neutral. 

"I'm sure you were going to though," John said with a roll of his eyes.

"No, nope, not at all."

John frowned at him but turned back to his dinner

"Just-"

John sighed as Sherlock started talking.

"-if I'm causing problems for you-"

"Please shut up." 

"Papa!" Verity gasped. "You always tell me off for saying shut up!"

John took a deep fortifying breath turning to look at his daughter. "You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," he managed through gritted teeth.

She shook her head and turned back to Sherlock. "Dad, you should come to my play at school, I'm a sheep."

"A sheep?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow.

Verity nodded happily chasing more corn round her plate. "Yes. I don't really have any lines but I do get to sing." 

Sherlock looked back to John. 

"I'll er...I'll ask the school about tickets, I'm not sure how they're doing them." 

"What?" Verity asked, her full attention on John. "Dad's got to come! He didn't come last year and I was only a tree last year, I'm a _sheep_ this time!" Her distress was obvious and John was keen to avoid another night of tears.

"I know, I know, it'll be fine, I just meant that I'll need to let them know that we'll need another ticket," John said trying to placate her. 

"Oh," she said frowning at the perceived near miss of Sherlock not being able to go to the Year 1 nativity play. "Ok."

\- - - - -

"I take it the school limits the number of tickets to the play per child?" Sherlock asked as John cleared the kitchen and Sherlock 'helped' by not getting in the way.

John looked up to check that Verity wasn't listening but she'd taken herself through to the living room. "Three tickets."

"Ah. You, Mrs Hudson and Will?"

John nodded. "Yeah. That was the plan, but I don't think you not coming is an option now-"

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but John carried on.

"-nor would I want you not to. You've missed enough already."

"I'm sorry," Sherlock eventually said.

John shook his head still wiping the counters down. "Stop apologising, it's weird coming from you."

"I don't...I'm sure I can find a way into a primary school play without a ticket," he suggested.

John was clearly trying not to smile and almost succeeding. "I'll talk to her teacher again, she was surprised enough when I said that you weren't dead that she might just make an exception."

"You told her teacher?" Sherlock asked, eyes narrowing in confusion.

John stopped cleaning and leaned against the counter. "Sherlock, I had to go in so that when our daughter went to school and started talking about things she'd been doing with her back from the dead father the school didn't call me in and try to get Very referred to a psychologist!"

Sherlock nodded slowly. "Ah, yes. It sounds like she likes school." 

"She does," John smiled. "She's clever-"

"Obviously."

"And enthusiastic, and popular."

"That's all you," Sherlock smiled. He'd been worried when John was pregnant that their child would end up too much like himself and not enough like John and would have a hard time with other people.

John managed a tight smile. "She's plenty like you Sherlock, and I'll always be glad of that. It was...comforting while you were gone to know there was part of you alive in her." 

Sherlock watched John carefully for a moment. "I missed you both you know, while I was gone, not just Verity."

"Sherlock..." John sighed, shifting to cross his arms in front of him.

"Sorry," he said. "I just...thought you should know. I didn't want you to think it was only Very that I wanted to get back to." He slowly pushed himself off the counter he was leaning on, moving fractionally closer to John. "I missed you too, I missed our life, and our family, and I missed the middle of the night when Verity would crawl into our bed-"

"Please stop," John whispered, his arms still crossed over his chest, his eyes on the floor, refusing to look up.

"I _still_ miss those things," Sherlock murmured stopping close to John

John finally looked up at him, his deep blue eyes meeting Sherlock's for the first time in what felt like an age. 

It would be so easy, Sherlock thought, to just lean forward and kiss John, to breathe in his mate's scent for the first time in three years, to leave his own scent on him. More importantly he thought John probably wouldn't stop him, if the glances being thrown at his mouth was anything to go by. Just one step forward, and he could kiss his mate for the first time in 3 years.

"Papa I spilled my drink!"

John jerked away from Sherlock as Verity came bounding through to the living room.

"Oh dear," he said forcing a smile as he picked her up, grabbing a cloth at the same time. "Let's get it cleaned up then you need to say goodnight to Dad cos it's not far off your bed time."

\- - - - -

John quietly ushered Sherlock out as soon as Verity was in bed.

"John-" Sherlock said turning round on the doorstep.

"Don't, please Sherlock. I...I missed you too every day, but I grieved for you, I grieved for the life we had and the life I thought we were going to have. It's been three years, and I can't...I can't just undo that Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded slowly turning away. "Goodnight John." 

Sherlock had made it part way down the short path to the road when John called his name causing him to turn back.

"I'm glad that you're back. You've changed my life three times and only the first two were good ways, I'm glad...I'm glad that that's not how we ended."

Sherlock watched as John let himself back into his flat, John's words echoing in his head long into the night.

 

\- - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote - 
> 
> Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end - Semisonic Closing time


	12. Then - Good Old Fashioned Villain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry and sorry again that this has taken so long to post. RL has been crazy busy and my writing time had dropped to zero. Hopefully that's easing off a bit and will be back to posting regularly.
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy,
> 
> W :-)

** Then **

John smiled as his mother-in-law held the week old baby. She was just as instantly besotted as everyone else had been when they'd seen her. 

"She's just beautiful, John, wonderful."

John smiled and stroked the baby's soft pink hand. "She is isn't she?"

"I still can't believe you had her here and my son delivered her!"

John grinned at her. "Me either Violet, me either. I don't think he can either you know."

She smiled back at him before looking back down at the baby. "He'll be well practiced for next time then."

John laughed and eased himself off the sofa. "Next time? Give me a bit more than a week to recover before we think about next time, and I might be keen to try it in hospital anyway. Tea?"

She nodded as she smiled at him. "Siger and I thought we'd have a whole gaggle of children, that's why we bought the house in the country, lots of space for lots of babies."

John leant cautiously on the worktop by the kettle. 

"Mycroft was 2 when we bought it, and then we struggled to have another. I had two miscarriages before Sherlock arrived." She shook her head softly bringing herself out of whatever memories she'd been thinking of. "Speaking of Sherlock, how's he been? I hope he's not been rushing around on cases. Do I need to have a chat with him about being helpful?"

John laughed as he made tea. "Not at all, he's been...he's been wonderful, I couldn't have asked for more."

Violet smiled warmly. "Oh John, you've no idea how happy I am to hear that. I was so worried that he'd be lost in his own world as usual, but you seem to be the exception to all of his rules."

John set their tea down on the side table as he eased back onto the sofa, peering at the baby in his mother-in-law's arms. "Does she look like he did as a baby?"

Violet grinned and nodded. "Mmm, a little, I think she looks like you more though." She met his eyes. "She's wonderful John, I can't thank you enough for what you've given my son, all of us."

John's expression softened and he stroked his daughter's hair. "He's given me everything, Violet."

\- - - - - 

A month before her first birthday, Sherlock sat with Verity on his lap, her back against his chest as he leaned back in his chair. She was watching as he flipped through the channels on the tv, pausing on a trashy chat show. 

"Idiots," he sighed thinking how obvious the paternity of the child in question was. 

"Stupid."

Sherlock blinked and looked down at his daughter. "What?"

"Stupid," she said seriously still watching the tv. 

"John!" He called out. "John she spoke!"

John came rushing out of the bedroom half dressed. "What?"

"What do we think of the people on tv?" Sherlock asked pointing to the screen. 

Verity looked round from where she'd been watching Sherlock and John's faces. "Stupid," she nodded.

John laughed, a deep belly laughed and scooped the baby off Sherlock's lap blowing a raspberry on her tummy as he lifted her up, her baby giggle ringing through the flat. "You, my baby, are entirely your daddy's daughter."

\- - - - -

"Are you going to ignore that all day?" John asked irritated, Verity hanging on to him tightly as he rocked her gently. She'd been vaguely feverish all day and had been clingy as a result.

"What?" Sherlock mumbled engrossed in his microscope.

"Your phone, it's been beeping non-stop."

"Mmm," Sherlock agreed vaguely.

John sighed and snatched Sherlock's phone up, shuffling Verity to his hip and kissing her hair absentmindedly as he scrolled through Sherlock's texts. "She'll have to stay home from nursery tomorrow-" he came to an abrupt halt. "Sherlock, here."

"I'm busy," he murmured not looking up.

"He's back," John gasped shoving the phone at his mate.

**Come and play. Tower Hill. Jim Moriarty x.**

 

\- - - - -

"You aren't listening to me!" John shouted. 

"There's nothing more to say," Sherlock huffed, dropping onto the sofa. 

"The press are everywhere Sherlock! A fucking paparazzi tried to get a photo of me and Verity when I picked her up from nursery today!" He watched as Sherlock seemed not to respond. "Can you hear me? Our two year old was sobbing and a sodding photographer had his long lens in her face! This has to stop!"

Sherlock jumped to his feet. "And what? You think Moriarty is just going to say goodbye and leave us to our lives because a paparazzi upset our daughter. Don't you see, I can't walk away from this!"

"Of course you can't, you're the all knowing Sherlock fucking Holmes, no one's cleverer than you, no one can stop Moriarty but you, can't possibly leave him to the police!" He raged.

"The police? Are you insane?! The police couldn't solve a game of Cluedo with an answer sheet, do you honestly think I'd leave the safety of _my family_ to those imbeciles?!" Sherlock's fury was coming off him in waves. 

"Why are they calling you as a witness?" John asked dropping to his arm chair. "This is all playing into his hands."

Sherlock dropped to a crouch in front of him. "I'm the only one that can stop him John, I've got to play this game to the end."

John stood up so quickly Sherlock almost ended up on his arse. "This isn't a fucking game, this is our life!" John rubbed a hand over his face forcing himself to take a deep breath. "I'm taking Verity to your parent's place for a few days."

"John-" Sherlock stood up fast. 

"Don't Sherlock. I need...this is no environment for a child," John wiped angrily at his wet eyes.

Sherlock pulled him close, John fighting against him. "Please don't go, I need you both, I need you here. Let's...let's go to the cottage in a few weeks, once this is all over. After the trial." He buried his face in John's neck breathing his scent deeply. "Please John."

At Sherlock's pleading John gave in and wrapped his arms around his mate stroking his back. "Ok, ok. Just promise me this'll all be over soon."

Sherlock nodded holding John tightly. "I promise, John, I promise."

 

\- - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Quote:
> 
> Every fairytale needs a good old fashioned villain - Jim Moriarty.
> 
> And massive thanks to Ariane DeVere on live journal for the ever useful transcripts: http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/30648.html


	13. Now - The attribute of the strong

** Now **

Sherlock frowned as Will opened the front door of John's flat, John close behind him. 

Not for the first time Sherlock wished his deductions didn't come so easily. The matching flushed cheeks and disheveled hair gave away what they'd spent their afternoon doing as clearly as if they'd had a flashing sign over their heads. That and the fact that John's t-shirt was on inside out. 

"Papa guess where we went!" Verity shrieked running to throw her arms round John's middle. 

Sherlock tried not to take any pleasure in the fact that she'd bypassed Will to do so. 

"Hmmm, to the park?" John asked playfully, crouching down to help her pull her coat off. 

"Nope!" She grinned pushing her shoes off as she leant on John. "We went to the zoo and Daddy knew someone who worked there so we got to go into some cages, and we fed giraffes and monkeys and penguins! And then we had lunch somewhere that all the food was tiny-"

John shot a confused smile at Sherlock as he stood awkwardly in the hallway. 

"Dim sum," Sherlock clarified.

"-and Daddy showed me how to use chopsticks and I was really good at them-"

"She's got your modesty," John grinned at him. 

"-and then we went to see Uncle Greg and Daddy let me have a muffin from the food machine, and then we came home! Look," she said pulling a stuffed toy out of her backpack. "It's a giraffe!" She grinned and waved it around. 

"That's lovely sweetheart," Will smiled.

Sherlock wondered if Verity could tell it was fake. 

"Why don't you go and put it and your shoes in your room?" Will asked, fake smile still in place. 

"Ok!" She skipped off happily, the giraffe being giddily waved around. 

Once she was out of ear shot Will turned to Sherlock, smile long gone. 

"You took her to a crime scene?" Will asked sharply. 

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Not that it's actually any of your business, but no, Lestrade was at Scotland Yard."

"Of course it's my business, and I don't think Scotland Yard is much more appropriate for a 5 year old."

Sherlock rolled his eyes again, his patience running thin. "It's simply a large office building-"

"It's not appro-"

"It's not your concern-

"Enough!" John said in a harsh whisper. "Will, I trust Sherlock's judgement on this, if he thinks it's fine then it's fine. She's clearly not traumatised is she?"

Will opened his mouth to speak again but snapped it shut at a look from John. Sherlock wondered what he'd missed.

"And Sherlock it is Will's business," John added wearily. 

The three of them stood in silence for a moment before Verity reappeared, flinging herself at Sherlock for a hug. 

"Are you staying for tea Daddy?" She asked stroking at his hair. "Will's making pizza, he's really good at them."

Sherlock smiled but shook his head. "Sorry darling, I've got some work to do this evening."

"So what will you have for tea?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes but pulled his daughter closer, smiling at John over her shoulder. "You are your Papa's daughter."

"What does that mean?" Verity asked with a frown, leaning back from him. 

"Mmm, bit hard to explain." He pulled her close and kissed her hair gently getting a good deep breath of her scent. "Right, I'll see you on Monday for your lesson."

"Love you Daddy," she said squeezing him before he set her down. 

"Love you too Very." He stood up straight again as she ran through to the kitchen, Will following after her. "I can pick her up from school if that's easier."

John nodded but said, "Maybe, I'll let you know."

Sherlock nodded but still didn't move. John's flushed cheeks, bare feet, inside out shirt taunting Sherlock with exactly what he'd given up.

"Um, thanks, for taking her out I mean. Seems like she's had a great time, I'm sure we'll hear all about it tonight."

Sherlock nodded and after a few awkward moments of them both looking at their feet he cleared his throat opening the front door. "I'll, um, I'll see you on Monday, let me know about picking her up."

"Will do," John said as he stood in the door way. "Oh and Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned back to him.

"Make sure you do have some dinner," John smiled as he shut the door.

\- - - - - 

John had picked Verity up from school before her violin lesson with Sherlock and she'd run in hugged Sherlock and then gone down to Mrs Hudson to get some biscuits leaving John and Sherlock stood awkwardly in the living room of 221b. 

"We've um, we've heard about nothing but giraffes since Saturday."

Sherlock smiled sticking his hands into his trouser pockets. "I'm glad she liked it."

John nodded again, the awkward silence creeping back in. "She talks about you all the time anyway, she's thrilled with everything you do together, giraffes make a nice change," John smiled.

Sherlock smiled back. "I'll try and keep her entertained so she's got lots of other things to talk about."

"I don't mind, it's nice really. I thought she'd lost the chance for all this stuff..."

Sherlock nodded. "I know. I feel like I want to make up for all that lost time but I'm not sure it's possible."

"It's not," John said with a small shake of his head. "You missed so many things that you can't get back, but there's so many more things to come, and she's so besotted with you...coming back sort of makes up for you leaving with her."

Sherlock watched him closely. "And what about with you?"

John met his eyes and smiled sadly. "Bit less complicated when you're five I think."

"I'm five!" Verity said running in having heard the very end of the conversation. She wriggled her way into Sherlock's arms smiling as he picked her up.

"So you are," Sherlock grinned. 

"Did you know that it's my birthday soon though Daddy?"

"I did know that."

"I'm going to be 6," she said seriously.

"I know."

"And then it's Christmas y'know?"

He nodded as he noticed John's slightly stricken look. 

"I knew that too. You know what else I know?" He asked moving to set her down on the coffee table as she shook her head. "It's time for your lesson."

\- - - - - - 

After Verity's Wednesday lesson John was shifting around as Verity pulled her coat and gloves on.

"What?" Sherlock asked, brow furrowed. 

"What do you mean?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You want to ask me something, spit it out."

"It's still annoying when you do that."

"Get on with it."

John huffed but managed to start talking. "I wondered if you could have Very this weekend? I could drop her off on Saturday morning and pick her up on Sunday?"

Verity looked up at them. "A sleepover with Dad?"

Sherlock looked down at her smiling face for a moment before looking back at John.

"Of course," he shrugged. "Where are you going?"

"Are you going on holiday Papa?"

John rolled his eyes again. "No, I'm not. Will and I just wanted to go out and thought you'd like to stay over with Dad."

Verity nodded happily. "It's going to be so fun Daddy!"

"It will. Why don't you go and tell Mrs Hudson about it?" Sherlock said with a stroke to her hair. 

"Where are you actually going?" Sherlock asked once Verity was downstairs. 

John shook his head. "Does it matter?"

"No, I'm just curious. Where will I get hold of you if Verity has an emergency?"

John rubbed a hand over his hair. "She won't."

"Humour me."

"You never want humouring."

Sherlock shrugged watching John's reactions. He already had his own theory about what John was doing and he wasn't sure why he wanted it confirming. Maybe it was like the urge to poke a bruise or worry a healing wound; you know it'll hurt and make the injury worse but you do it anyway. 

"Fine," John said eventually, snorting through his nose. "Will and I are going away for the night. It's been a bit stressful lately and we could do with a bit of time on our own."

Sherlock was right, it did hurt. 

"Verity and I will be fine, don't worry."

"What if there's a case?"

"Lestrade managed without me for 3 years, I'm sure he can cope for a weekend."

John nodded. "Thank you."

"She's my daughter, you don't have to thank me."

John shook his head. "I didn't mean for that. Anyway, I'd better go and see what she's up to. I'll bring her over on Saturday morning. See you then."

Sherlock nodded again and saw them both out, the unreachable ache of a reopened wound lingering for the rest of the day.

 

\- - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Quote:  
> The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong -   
> Mahatma Gandhi  
> 


	14. Then - Just Like Flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, 
> 
> I'm posting this one on its own, Now chapter to follow in a few days. 
> 
> Read the tags!
> 
> Thanks for reading,
> 
> W :-)

** Then **

"Papa look at the frog!" Verity shrieked happily, holding the slippery creature up for John to see. 

He grinned at her as Sherlock held her firmly, her neon arm bands reflecting off the surface of the pond. He snapped a picture just before the frog wriggled it's way out of her grip. 

"It's really wiggly," she called to John before turning to hold onto Sherlock more firmly. 

John laughed and took a couple more photos. 

"Find it Daddy!"

Sherlock laughed and carefully walked them further into the pond. "I think it's gone now darling, let's see what else we can find."

\- - - - - 

"Everything ok John?"

Siger's voice made John jump as he stood watching Sherlock and Verity outside. Sherlock was showing her some leaves and listening as she babbled away.

"Sorry didn't mean to make you jump," his father-in-law smiled.

"Oh, no, I was miles away. Sorry."

"Quite alright." Siger had joined him at the window. "Is everything ok John? You seem...tense, both of you."

"Hmmm, we've been better. It's just...a bit of a tricky case really, a long running one."

Siger shifted, looking at John before gazing back out of the window. "The police can't help?"

John shook his head still watching his mate and child outside. "Not really. The criminal he's...it's like he's obsessed with Sherlock, with taunting him, drawing him into this...this terrible game."

Siger nodded slowly. "I've seen some of the press, I've tried to keep most of it away from Violet. This, whatshisname, Moriarty, he's dangerous, isn't he?"

John nodded still not looking at Siger.

"Verity..."

John shrugged again. "Sherlock doesn't think he'll go after her specifically but...we're both worried that she might end up in the crossfire, literal or figurative."

They stood in silence as the happy oblivious toddler played with her father. 

"John, Violet and I could have Verity here if you'd like. She likes it here, it's familiar, we could make it seem like a holiday so she wouldn't be upset."

John finally looked away from the window to meet his father-in-law's eye. "Thank you Siger, it's more reassuring than you can imagine. I don't think Sherlock really wants her out of sight of either of us at the moment though."

"The offer's always there."

"And I'll always bear it in mind." John took a deep breath and mentally shook himself. "I'm hopeful we're worrying unnecessarily, I mean, it's been months since the trial and he seems to have vanished."

Siger clapped him on the shoulder and offered him a tight smile just as Verity spotted them and waved, calling happily to them.

"Looks like we've been summoned," Siger smiled. 

\- - - - - 

"What's going on?" John asked at the sight of Lestrade and Donovan in his living room.

"Kidnapping."

"Rufus Bruhl, the ambassador to the U.S.," Lestrade said.

"He’s in Washington, isn’t he?" John asked. 

Lestrade shook his head. "Not him – his children, Max and Claudette, age seven and nine. They’re at St Aldate’s."

"Posh boarding place down in Surrey," Donovan said showing John pictures of the children.

"The school broke up; all the other boarders went home – just a few kids remained, including those two."

"The kids have vanished," Donovan threw in. 

"The ambassador’s asked for you personally," Lestrade grinned as Sherlock pulled his coat on.

"The Reichenbach Hero," Sally quipped sarcastically. 

"Isn’t it great to be working with a celebrity," Lestrade smirked as they left the flat. 

At the bottom of the stairs Sherlock turned to John. "Ask Mrs Hudson to pick up Verity?"

John nodded. "Think it'll be a long one?"

Sherlock nodded. "Something like that, just be for the best I think."

John nodded. "I'll pop in now."

\- - - - - 

Sherlock had figured out the kidnapping from nothing almost. John thought to himself that after all this time he should probably stop being so impressed by his mate. 

He didn't even take a lot of offence when Sherlock had all but shoved him into a separate cab, though catching up with his mate stood over the body of a dead assassin hadn't thrilled him, and when Sherlock had told him about the video, Moriarty's plan to discredit him, John's stomach sank.

They left Verity asleep in Mrs Hudson's spare room, the night feeling far from over. 

\- - - - -

John had taken a perverse pleasure in surprising his brother-in-law at his stupid silent club. Mycroft's excuses had been weak, and the betrayal and fury were vying for prime position in his brain. The fact that Sherlock's own brother had given a maniac all the ammunition he needed to destroy Sherlock, destroy their family, was beyond belief and John could only hope and pray that Sherlock was clever enough to outplay Moriarty with such a massive disadvantage. 

\- - - - -

Sherlock had set up what he hopped would be his last resort with Molly. 

"I'll be back in 45 minutes," he said softly. "There's one more thing I need to do."

He'd taken every back route and dark alley he knew to get back to Baker Street unseen, hoping over a fence and letting himself silently into Mrs Hudson's flat.

He sat on the edge of the bed his daughter was deep asleep in, stroking her hair softly and tucking her current favourite soft toy under her arm. 

He watched her for as long as he could before leaning forward and kissing her softly, pressing his forehead against her cheek for long moment. 

"I love you more than _anything_ ," he whispered, kissing her cheek. 

With every ounce of will he had he stood up and let himself out silently, retracing his steps to Bart' s hospital, firing off a text to John as he arrived.

\- - - --

Terror was thrumming through John's veins as he got Sherlock's text to meet him at Bart's, and just the sight of his mate had been enough to ease his mind a fraction. As Sherlock had told him about the hidden code and the way they could bring Moriarty back into existence John actually felt like they had a chance, like they could stop Moriarty once and for all, and clear Sherlock's name in one fell swoop. They just needed to figure out how.

He'd fallen asleep at some point, aware that his role in solving any case was usually just being there for Sherlock to bounce ideas off, but with Sherlock silent and pensive John had found himself flagging. The sound of his phone ringing jerked him back into consciousness.

The news of Mrs Hudson's injury sent a spike of fear through him, fear that was only amplified by Sherlock's dismissive response. He'd called his mate a machine and stormed off, and it wasn't until he was in the familiar hallway, Mrs Hudson cheerily telling him about how she'd got Verity off to nursery without a problem that John realised that he was merely the next person to get played by Moriarty. 

The fear inside him grew to an almost overwhelming level as he got into the first cab he'd seen. 

\- - - - -

"Look up, I'm on the roof."

John's heart was immediately in his throat. "Oh God."

"I...I...I can’t come down, so we’ll...we’ll just have to do it like this." 

"What’s going on?" John asked, clutching his phone so hard he felt like it could snap at any moment, like himself.

"An apology. It’s all true."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Wh-what?"

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."

"Why are you saying this?" John gasped. He didn't know what Moriarty had done to manoeuvre Sherlock into this situation but John had never felt terror like it, not when he'd been strapped to semtex, or hallucinating giant hounds, or bleeding out of a hole in his shoulder under the Afghan sun.

"I’m a fake," Sherlock managed, his voice thick with tears. "The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs Hudson, and Molly...in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."

"Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met...the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?" John said fiercely. 

"Nobody could be that clever."

"You could," John croaked out, fighting his own tears and panic. 

Sherlock let out a wet gasp of a laugh. "I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It’s a trick. Just a magic trick."

"No. All right, stop it now," he said firmly, shaking his head. He started toward the hospital entrance. Sherlock could be stubborn and if John had to drag him off that ledge himself then he would. 

"No! Stay exactly where you are. Don’t move."

The frantic, desperate tone of Sherlock's voice stopped him in his tracks. "All right."

"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?" 

"Do what?"

"This phone call – it’s...it’s my note. It's what people do, don’t they – leave a note?"

John shook his head, closing his eyes for a second to block out the sight of his mate on the rooftop. "Leave a note when?" 

"John."

John shook his head. "Don't, Sherlock, please. Please," he gasped, his tears choking him as panic turned his blood to ice. "Please don't. Verity, our baby, she's just a baby still, I can't raise her without you. I _love_ you, _she_ loves you."

Sherlock's head dropped forward for a moment, his breathing wet and shaky. "I love you both too. Goodbye John."

"No. Don’t!"

John had often heard people say that traumatic moments in their life felt like they were happening in slow motion, but to John this was anything but. It felt like one horrifying split second between Sherlock saying goodbye and Sherlock falling over the side of the hospital. 

"No. SHERLOCK!"

Despite a feeling of overwhelming numbness in his limbs and a roar in his ears John was running toward the hospital within seconds of Sherlock jumping, careening into a cyclist and hitting his head on the road as he fell. 

John could feel his consciousness slipping but forced himself to fight it, he had to get to his mate. 

With a groan he forced himself to his feet making an unsteady path to where Sherlock had fallen, his form surrounded by passers by. 

"Sherlock," he murmured as he reached the forming crowd. 

"Let me through, let me through. I'm a doctor, he's my mate, please, he's my mate," he managed to get out, pushing through the people surrounding the bloody body of the man he loved. 

He grasped Sherlock's wrist, needing to see for himself even as someone tried to peel his hand away. Didn't they understand that he needed to do _something_? The man that was so much of his world was lying before him in a growing puddle of his own blood.

"Please, let me just..." The ringing in his ears had reached a deafening level, his head swimming as his vision started to go grey at the edges. 

"Oh God no," he groaned as paramedics lifted his mate onto a stretcher. 

John tried to make his legs work, tried to force himself upright, but as he tried to stand his knees buckled and his stomach lurched. A kind stranger supported his weight as he turned and vomited into the gutter. "He's my mate," he gulped. "We have a baby," he managed before having to vomit again. 

\- - - - -

At some point he'd seen Molly who'd offered to call Mycroft, a man John no more wanted to see than he wanted to hear the name Moriarty again. 

He'd had a brief checkup and despite the possible concussion and the recommendation he stay in hospital for a few more hours he'd discharged himself and left without anyone seeing him go. 

In a daze he'd managed to get to Verity's nursery and had signed her out early. She'd picked up on something, whether the distress in his scent or the hospital smell still lingering on him and had clung on to him tightly in the taxi home. 

He locked and bolted the doors to the flat, pulled off their coats and shoes and announced they were having a nap, receiving not even a token protest from his usually nap shy daughter. 

He pulled her close to him, her back to his tummy, tugging the quilt over them, before rearranging Sherlock's pillow close to his daughter. 

As he moved the bedding his mate's scent filled the air around them, making John's heart clench painfully. He held their child tightly until her baby snores filled his ears, sleep coming easily to her despite her confusion.

John held her closer as the reality of the morning hit him, and there, surrounded by the scent of his beloved and holding the product of their love, John's heart broke and he cried himself to sleep for the first time since he was a child.

 

\- - - - -

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Quote:  
> But don’t be scared. Falling’s just like flying, except there’s a more permanent destination. - Jim Moriarty  
> 
> 
> Massive, giant thanks to Ariane DeVeres for the transcripts, I wouldn't have been able to get the details and timeline correct without them. You can find them [here](http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/30648.html) . 


	15. Now - Not all who wander are lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Thanks for reading. Next chapter up in a few days! W :-)

** Now **

"You went to the shop," John said as he stood in front of the open fridge. 

He'd meant to just drop Verity off before going to meet Will at the train station but Sherlock had asked if he wanted tea and John had said yes, and there was plenty of time before the train anyway. 

Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow at him like his statement was the most foolish thing he'd ever heard and carried on stirring sugar into his tea. 

"Thanks," John said as he handed Sherlock the milk.

"For?"

"For having her, for going to the shop."

Sherlock sent him the look again. 

"Nevermind," John shook his head. "Just...thanks."

\- - - - -

John had arrived at the station red faced and out of breath from running. 

"Sorry, sorry, got held up dropping Very off," he managed as they jogged along the platform to the train. 

When they were finally seated John grinned at Will. "I've just realised that I've no idea where we're going."

Will smiled at him across the small train table. "Buckinghamshire. Nice country hotel."

"Lovely."

Will seemed to relax as they pulled out of the station. "Hopefully it'll be nice, good reviews online," he smiled squeezing John's hand.

"Thanks for arranging it."

"There's a few nice walks nearby, some good pubs- you ok?" Will asked as John tapped at his phone.

"What? Oh yeah, sorry, just realised I hadn't reminded Sherlock that Very's still allergic to strawberries," he looked up just in time to catch Will's rolled eyes. "Sorry, sorry," he said dropping his phone on the table feeling guilty. "No more Sherlock talk I promise."

\- - - - -

"What are we going to do today?" Verity asked following close behind him as Sherlock put his and John's cups in the sink.

Sherlock stood facing the sink for a moment. He'd not really thought about what they'd actually _do_ once she was here, he'd just been pleased that she was happy about staying over and that John trusted him enough to look after her. 

"Hmm, well Papa said you had homework-"

"Boring," she sighed, resting her chin on the counter.

He smirked. "I know, but Papa will be very annoying if you don't do it."

She sighed but reluctantly trudged off to get her book bag as Sherlock poked around with his experiments in the kitchen. She sat down at his desk and emptied her bag out onto it. Realising she was entirely silent he looked up at her. 

"Problem?" He asked.

"You have to help me with it," her voice familiar to his own when he had to explain things to idiots. 

"Oh, right." He sat across from her but realised he was too far away to see her work, so pulled his chair round to her side ( _John's side_ , his brain helpfully added). "What do you need to do?"

"It's science," she smiled at him pulling a sheet of paper out of the pile of stuff on the desk. "In school we talked about what stuff's made from, see."

Sherlock had been momentarily heartened by it being a subject he enjoyed but when he looked at the sheet he had to hold back a sigh. 

"So we have to draw something that's made of these things and write it's name," she twirled her pencil as she explained this.

The sheet was split into three. Wood. Glass. Metal.

"Ok," he said. "Well what can you think of?"

She rested her head on her hand. "Ummm...windows?"

Sherlock nodded. "That's true."

"I wanted to find interesting things though, the teacher likes it when all the answers aren't the same."

Sherlock grinned for real now. "Ah, now interesting I can help with." He stood up. "Come on, put your coat on."

"But my homework!"

"This is for your homework. We're going out to find interesting things for you to draw."

She was grinning now. "Really?"

"Yes," he said bundling her into her coat and pulled her hat too low on her head. "It's called research."

\- - - - -

Verity looked around wide eyed, clinging to Sherlock's hand. 

"Daddy are we supposed to be in here?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. John and the boyfriend were far to cautious, his daughter's sense of adventure was woefully underdeveloped. 

"Was the door locked?" He asked her.

She shook her head looking around again. 

"Then we're fine."

"What are they doing?"

He crouched down next to her, pulled her hat off her head and loosened her scarf before loosening his own. 

"They're making glass and then shaping it."

" _Making_ glass?"

He smiled at her expression staying crouched close to her. "Yes, it's a bit of a tricky one to explain-"

"Can I help you? I'm not sure you're meant to be in here," said the man approaching them. 

Verity frowned at Sherlock as he stood up. "Sorry, my daughter has a project," he gestured slightly at her. "I wanted her to see how it's made-"

"You're him aren't you?" The man asked with a surprised look on his face. "Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yes, sorry I should have called ahead, I just saw that your studio wasn't far away and we hopped on the tube." Sherlock was hoping his charm offensive might get them a better look at the glass. 

"Oh, no no, it's fine. Not everyday we get a celebrity in here. I'm Nathan, this is my studio. I could give you a tour if you'd like?"

Bingo. "Please," Sherlock smiled.

\- - - - -

John lay tangled in the covers of the expensive bed at the expensive hotel and tried to relax. He'd managed it for half an hour, but had been somewhat distracted in that time. 

"You ok?" Will asked as he stroked John's hair.

"Mmm," John murmured, not wanting to bring up a sore subject at an inopportune moment. 

"You sure?"

John nodded and turned, his chin on Will's chest. "Just worrying about Very, sorry."

"It's alright," Will smiled softly. "I worry about her too, but she'll be fine, she's stayed with Violet and Siger loads of time, Mycroft too. She's used to being at other people's houses."

John nodded and closed his eyes trying to relax against Will. He didn't want to mention Sherlock while he was naked in bed with his boyfriend, but it was different to anything any of them had experienced before. "Mmm, true."

Will squeezed him softly. "Come on, let's get dressed and go for lunch. There's a great seafood place I want to take you to."

\- - - - -

Verity clung to his hand as they hustled along the busy street toward the restaurant they were going to for lunch. 

"Why did that man give you his phone number? Are you going to text each other?" 

Sherlock frowned down at her. "I think he wanted to...be friends."

"Oh," she nodded looking like she was weighing up the idea. "Who's your best friend?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I dunno. Daddy was my best friend for a long time."

"Is he not now?" She was trotting along beside him by this point. 

"Probably not, no."

"Because you were dead?" She sounded so innocent that it stopped him in his tracks, Verity turning round to trot back to him. 

"I think so, yes."

She nodded as they stood opposite each other, pedestrians huffing as they walked around them. "Maybe when he's not cross you can be best friends again?"

Sherlock frowned again. "He's cross with me?"

She nodded at him as she twisted her hands in her coat bringing it up behind her like a cape. "Yep, he and Will were arguing and Will said Papa forgot too easily and Papa said 'Of course I'm still angry with Sherlock'," she lowered her voice to mimic John's. "That's you," she said as if he wouldn't have known other wise. "Maybe when he's not angry he'll be your friend again?" She asked slipping her hand into his. 

"Maybe," he smiled pulling her up to carry her the rest of the way, telling her it would be quicker that way but really just wanting to keep her close, the reminder of him being away sitting heavily inside him and her easy grip on him reassuring him that he hadn't lost both her _and_ John.

\- - - - -

After the restaurant, which had been excellent, Will and John had gone for a walk through the countryside and found themselves in the late afternoon settled in the kind of cosy pub you just didn't find in London. There was even a shaggy old Golden Retriever under the table next to them. It was a world away from chasing through London after criminals.

Will grinned at him and kept grinning even as John took a sip of his pint. 

"What?" John asked, confused smile on his face. 

"What, what?" Will grinned. 

"You, grinning like that, what's up? Do I have something on my face?" John asked, bemused. 

Will shook his head and took a sip of his own drink. "Nothing. Nothing I'm just...I'm just having a great weekend."

John smiled at him and carried on drinking. He thought Will had been going to say something else. Something more meaningful. 

John tried not to think about the fact that he was relieved that Will had decided against whatever he'd been planning on saying. 

"Me too," he managed to smile. "Me too."

\- - - - - 

Verity grinned down at the chopsticks. "Daddy these are made of wood!"

Sherlock grinned back at her. "So they are, well spotted."

She managed to half scoop half spear some of her lunch using them and grinned around a mouthful of noodles. "No one else will say chopsticks I'm sure."

He smoothed her hair softly. "Just one thing left to go then."

She nodded at him a while they ate in comfortable silence. When she finished before him she fidgeted a bit but then settled again. 

"Daddy, will you have to pretend be dead again?"

Sherlock calmly finished the food in his mouth, grateful he didn't start choking. "No," he shook his head. "I wouldn't be able to do it again."

"Why not?" She asked, rubbing her chopstick through a patch of condensation on the table. 

"I missed you and Daddy too much, I wouldn't be able to leave you again."

She nodded and smiled at him. "I'd miss you again too, I like being with you."

He smiled back and leaned to kiss her forehead. "Good, I like being with you too."

\- - - - -

John and Will had stayed for a few drinks and eventually joined in a game of darts with some locals.

When they got back to the hotel they'd tested out whether the two person bathtub actually was a two person bathtub and eventually lay, not much cleaner than they'd started, in a tub of cooling water. 

The silence between them was peaceful, comfortable, safe. Will wrapped his arms around John and pulled him close, resting his chin on John's shoulder pressing a soft kiss to the skin there. 

John shivered at the touch, aware that it was in the spot where a bond bite could be placed, the opposite side to where Sherlock had bitten all those years ago. His eyes fluttered closed and unbidden the image of he and Sherlock sharing the bathtub at 221b came to mind and a for a split second it was Sherlock's soft kiss he felt, and Sherlock's long limbs around him.

His eyes flew open and he shifted, turning to kiss Will's forehead as he stood up. "Come on," he managed, aiming for jovial and missing by a mile. "I need a shower after that failed attempt at a bath."

\- - - - -

They'd gone back to 221b after lunch, and Verity had dutifully drawn a picture of the small glass whale that Nathan had gifted her at the end of their tour of the studio, and the chopsticks she'd brought home from the restaurant, Sherlock helping her with the spellings. 

"I used to live here didn't I?" She asked, feet kicking comically far off the floor as she put her pencils back in their case.

"Yes," Sherlock agreed getting up to make tea. 

"Where did I sleep?" She asked trailing after him.

"Upstairs, there's another bedroom up there, it's where you'll sleep tonight."

"Can I see it?"

"Alright," he shrugged gesturing toward to stairs. "Go ahead."

"You have to come with me," she sighed, using his own tone once again. 

"Oh, fine, fine, let's go and have a look."

The room had been stacked with boxes of his things when he'd moved back, most of which he'd scattered throughout the flat now, putting things back where he liked them, but the boxes he deemed non-important had stayed up there, along with the boxes John had brought round that he'd not been able to face looking in.

( _"Stuff Mrs Hudson packed up and gave me," John had said as he awkwardly handed them over. "I thought you'd want them back."_ ) 

Sherlock hadn't looked at the contents beyond the first glance after he'd put them out of sight in the now spare room. 

Verity dropped down onto the camp bed Mrs Hudson had set up for her, bouncing a little before standing on it to peer at a box that was now at eye height for her.

"What's in these?" She asked pulling the lid off the top box. 

"Well it looks like you're going to find out so why ask?" He said looking into another box.

"Dunno," she shrugged, dropping the box lid. 

He heard her rummaging around for a while as he pulled a few books out of the box he was inspecting. 

"Daddy a photo album!" She grinned opening it out. "It's you and Papa!"

Sherlock turned to look over her head at it, feeling his chest tighten for a moment. John had given him the album when Verity was small. It was pictures of them and her. 

_'I know it's sentimental, but indulge me,' John had said, smiling as he handed it over._

_Sentimental it might have been but Sherlock loved it immediately._

"Papa made it for me."

"Why?" 

"Sentiment," he answered, stroking her hair and not elaborating. 

They flicked through for a few moments before Verity got bored and began rummaging in the box again as Sherlock flipped through the photos, lingering over the ones of John when he was pregnant. John had complained toward the end that he felt heavy and awful, but Sherlock honestly didn't think he'd ever seen his mate look more beautiful.

"Hey, this is metal!" Verity exclaimed, ferreting around for something right at the bottom. 

Sherlock looked up as she pulled a gold band out of the box, his stomach dropping at the sight of it as his daughter moved it in the light. 

"It's shiny," she said smiling. 

Sherlock nodded and carefully took it from her turning it round. 

It was shiny, shinier than when he'd worn it. Someone, _John_ , had cleaned it. So it had been looked at, handled, not just kept in a box and forgotten about. 

The thought comforted Sherlock more than he thought it would. 

"It's my bonding ring, from when Papa and I were bonded."

Verity turned it over in his palm. "Are you not bonded now?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No...we were apart for too long."

Verity climbed down from the bed and threw herself at him hugging him tightly, her face pressed against his belly. "Love you Daddy."

He pulled her closer closing his eyes as he tightened his hand around the ring. "Love you too darling, very much."

\- - - - -

John fiddled with his phone as Will finished getting dressed. 

"Ok?" Will asked, shaking John out of his reverie. 

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Just...I thought, thought maybe I'd have got a text or something."

Will smiled as he looped his belt through his trousers, pausing to kiss John's hair. "Why don't you just phone now. The meal's one of those, y'know, multi course tasting ones, we might be back later than her bed time."

John nodded and smiled. "Yeah, ok, good idea." 

He dialed as Will ducked into the bathroom to sort his hair out. 

_"Hi Papa!"_

He grinned as he heard her voice. "Hi sweetheart, how are you doing?"

_"Good! We went to a glass maker and had tiny food again and for a walk and played violin and did research."_

He laughed at her excited voice. "Oh really, that's a lot in one day. What are you doing now?"

_"We're wearing dressing gowns and Daddy's making cheese on toast."_

John smiled, the image one he could easily call to mind, evenings before Sherlock left having been similar. "That's nice baby, Daddy's good at both of those."

He heard a rustling noise that he thought meant she was nodding.

_"I saw some photos too, of when I was in your belly."_

"Did you?" John frowned wondering what had prompted Sherlock to get those out.

_"Yep. And Daddy said I can paint my room here and pick out a proper bed, but the camping bed is really bouncy so I don't mind it."_

John resisted the urge to grill her about the photos more, knowing Sherlock would hear. 

"That's really exciting. So you're having a good time then?"

_"Yeah really good. I've got to go now, the cheese is really melty and I don't want to talk more cos it'll go cold."_

John laughed. "Alright darling, well I'll say good night now and I'll see you in the morning ok?"

_"Ok Papa, bye...Daddy what do I press? Oh-"_

John huffed out a laugh as his phone beeped in his ear, feeling oddly choked up. 

"Everything ok?"

John nodded and cleared his throat smiling again. "Yeah, just cast aside for cheese on toast."

"Understandable," Will nodded smirking. "Acceptable?" He asked, arms stretched out. 

John looked at him carefully. He really was very handsome. Blonde, broad shouldered, classically handsome, sporty looking. 

"You look great," John smiled pressing a soft kiss to his lips, trying to shake off the ghost of memories from long ago.

\- - - - -

Verity snuggled against Sherlock's side, wiping her cheese greasy fingers on her dressing gown. She'd persuaded him to put Doctor Who on but was talking over most of it, chattering to Sherlock seemingly about any thought that popped into her head.

"We're going to Granny and Grandpa's for Christmas you know. Are you coming too?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I think so...where's Will going?"

"He's going to his mummy and daddy's."

Interesting. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yeah. They said me and Papa could go too, but Papa said that it was a special Christmas - I don't know why - so we're going to Granny and Grandpa's, which is better because Granny and Grandpa are nicer than Will's mummy and Daddy."

Sherlock frowned. "Are they not nice to you?"

"They're ok, but when we're there his mum says things like 'Verity, please don't put your shoes on that chair.'" She'd put on a sort of fake posh voice. "'Verity, please don't put half a biscuit back in the box. Verity your coat is too wet. Verity why do you have a frog in the house?" She rolled her eyes at her father. "She's really strict."

Sherlock was trying not to smile, he stroked her hair as he wrapped his arm around her amazed by how easily she'd become comfortable around him. "She sounds dull."

Verity nodded and settled against him. "That's why Granny and Grandpa are better."

Sherlock wasn't sure his own parents weren't dull too, but they'd raised him, so he couldn't imagine them complaining too much about frogs and wet coats and shoes on furniture.

\- - - - -

They were on their 4th of 7 courses. John had liked approximately half of what he'd eaten, but honestly would have been happier with fish and chips than multiple courses of foam and reductions. 

"You ok?" He frowned at Will. His boyfriend had taken on a funny sheen, as if he was all of a sudden too hot. 

"Mmm, yeah, just a bit warm. More wine?" Will asked, clearly not wanting to answer John's question properly. 

John shook his head and leaned up reaching over to feel Will's forehead. "Bloody hell, Will, you're not 'a bit warm' you've got a fever! You must be feeling awful, let's go back to the room, I've got some paracetamol-"

"We've still got three courses to go, I'm fine-"

John rolled his eyes at him. "You're not fine-"

"I am," Will whispered harshly before sitting back in his seat as the waiter brought course 5 out to then. His assurances about being fine would have been better if the sight of the dish, pan fried baby octopus, hadn't made him turn pale and then a worrying colour bordering on green. 

"Still fine?" John asked calmly. 

Will shook his head and sucked in a few deep breaths. "I think I'm going to be sick."

\- - - - - 

Verity had climbed into his bed at around 3am and whispered to him that she'd had a bad dream. She didn't say what about but Sherlock wondered if all the talk of his death had got to her. He knew he should probably settle her back into her own bed but instead he pulled her close for a cuddle, smiling as she buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent the way she had done since she was born. 

He stroked her hair softly, amazed that his presence soothed her so easily without him needing to say or do much at all.

As her breathing slowed and settled into the patterns of sleep he let himself relax. Her closeness was comforting to him too and he almost couldn't believe this was real. 

_The stab wound hadn't been deep, but he'd had to wade through some filthy water to escape and it had been 24 hours before he'd been able to clean it._

_Now, shivering under several dirty blankets he knew infection had set in. He'd got some antibiotics into his system and knew he just needed to wait for them to do their job but he felt awful._

_He drifted in and out of consciousness taking more antibiotics as he remembered._

_A cool hand stroked his sweaty hair back. "How're you feeling?" John asked._

_"Terrible," Sherlock murmured, smiling even as he kept his eyes shut._

_"Not surprised that water was filthy."_

_Sherlock could hear the smile in John's voice. "True."_

_He smiled as he felt a small body wriggle under his arm._

_"Daddy's silly."_

_He smiled and pulled his daughter close. "Mmm, I am." The cool hand stayed stroking his cheek._

_"I'll remember you said that," John smiled, moving to lie with them, curled up against Sherlock's side._

_Sherlock smiled and breathed them in._

_When he opened his eyes, fever waning, the familiar scent of his mate and child lingered, leaving him with an ache that had nothing to do with his injury._

Sherlock gasped awake, expecting the comforting weight in his arms to disappear, but instead it snuggled closer and snored softly against his skin. 

His heart slowed from his nightmare as he pulled her closer, he dragged in a big lungful of her scent.

She smelled so like John.

\- - - - - 

"You ok?" John called leaning against the closed bathroom door. 

"No," Will groaned. 

"Do you need anything?"

"No," Will moaned. "Go away."

"Ok love, just...let me know if you need anything, alright?"

Will groaned something that John took to be an affirmative.

John sighed and climbed back into bed. Not quiet the night they'd planned.

\- - - - -

When Sherlock answered the door early the next afternoon John looked tired, but not relaxed, suggesting that Sherlock's fears of John and Will spending 24 hours testing the springs of a hotel mattress might not have been fully realised.

"You look tired," Sherlock said in greeting, John rolled his eyes as he started up the stairs.

"Well spotted detective."

"Long night then?"

John shot him a glare over his shoulder stopping in front of the door to the flat. 

"Not that it's actually any of your business, but yes, Will got food poisoning so it was a long night."

Sherlock smirked as he brushed passed John to go into the flat. "Pity."

"Papa!" Verity shrieked jumping at John. 

John grinned and caught he, pulling her up to his hip. "Hi princess, have you had a good time with Daddy?" He glanced around the flat. "You two don't seem to have caused too much destruction."

"Minimal amounts," Sherlock smirked. "Tea?"

"Please," John nodded following Sherlock, Verity still perched on his hip. "So tell me what you've been up to sweetheart."

"Urmm, we did research for my homework and we ate dim sum and watched Doctor Who and this morning we went out for breakfast," she grinned at him from up close. "Did you know that some restaurants make breakfast?"

\- - - - -

Later that day John emptied out Verity's book bag while she watched some cartoons. He was on the look out for half eaten food and dirty tissues since she seemed to not grasp that throwing these things away was easier than shoving it all in her bag. 

Pleased with the lack of mould and general debris he flicked through her workbook, pleased with the notes from the teacher. Sherlock had signed to confirm she'd finished her reading book and the sight of the alpha's messy signature made John more pleased than he thought reasonable.

He leafed through the loose sheets looking for permission slips in need of signing and found her homework sheet. 

Something that is made of wood - _______.  
Something that is made of glass - _______.  
Something that is made of metal - _______.

He smiled fondly as he read the words she'd filled in in her wobbly writing.

'Chopsticks'. 

'Glass animals'.

'Bonding rings'. 

His smiled dropped a little at the last one. 

_Bonding rings?_

As he stared at the sheet he realised that the only one she would have seen well enough for it to stick in her head and be the thing she chose to draw would have been Sherlock's. John's own was carefully tucked away in his bedside table and as far as he knew she'd never seen it, at least not since she was too young to remember. 

He traced a finger over the words before tucking it all back in her bag, trying to shake off the odd feeling it left him with but failing. 

Why had Sherlock had it out? Where did he keep it now? He knew the man didn't wear it, thank God. The sight of that would be too much for him. But...he hadn't got rid of it, that had to mean something. Then again, John hadn't got rid his either and that meant nothing. Nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Quote:
> 
> All that is gold does not glitter,  
> Not all those who wander are lost;  
> The old that is strong does not wither,  
> Deep roots are not reached by the frost.  
> From the ashes a fire shall be woken,  
> A light from the shadows shall spring;  
> Renewed shall be blade that was broken,  
> The crownless again shall be king.
> 
> J. R. R. Tolkien 


	16. Then - The Lucky Ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in a really good mood so here's the next chapter. The one after this isn't finished yet so probably a week or so til the next update. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and thanks so much for reading, your comments and kudos make my day every time! W :-D

** Then **

"Papa's sad," Verity said, curled up on her Grandpa's lap. 

Siger nodded sadly at her. 

"Where's Daddy?"

Siger sighed and squeezed her a little bit tighter. It had been a week since the funeral and she'd asked where Sherlock was several times a day since. Violet looked like she might burst into tears every time, and often did, and John just looked entirely stricken.

"Do you remember we had a chat about Daddy being...being dead?"

Her little forehead creased as she thought about it. "He's still dead?"

Siger nodded. "Yes darling, I'm afraid so."

She frowned and cuddled closer. "I want Papa."

Siger nodded and stood up, holding her close to him. "Let's go and find him shall we?"

Siger knocked gently on the door to the bedroom John and Verity had been staying in. It had once been Sherlock's bedroom. 

The door was propped open a little but Siger had no doubt that John would be curled up in bed. 

John turned his head as Siger and Verity entered the bedroom, Verity wriggling out of her grandfather's hold as she got near enough to clamber onto the bed and over John, curling up against him, her face in his neck.

Siger watched for a moment. Verity was so confused by everything and John was so bereft. He could only hope that somehow they'd be able to help each other. 

He made his way to the small office they had in the cottage. They'd been flooded with post since it had happened and he'd hidden it all away, needing to keep it all out of sight of John and Violet. 

He looked at the front of one of the papers, Sherlock's image dominating most of it. 

He sighed and shoved the paper to one side. How could he do it? He had a mate and a child. Sherlock had always been so headstrong and willful and he'd never seemed to care what anyone thought of him. Why would the rambling of a madman and the press drive him to suicide?

He picked up the phone on the first ring not wanting it to disturb the rest of the house. 

"Hello?"

"Father, it's Mycroft."

Siger sank back in his chair. "Hello Mycroft." An awkward silence sat between them for a moment. 

"How's Mummy?"

"She's very upset, Mycroft."

"And John?"

"Much the same," Siger sighed rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. "How's your mouth?"

After the funeral and the wake, when everyone had gone home and John couldn't avoid Mycroft anymore, Mycroft made the mistake of asking how John and Verity were and offering whatever financial assistance he could. 

John had punched him in the mouth and loosened two of his teeth, along with giving him a split lip and a sizeable bruise.

"My dentist thinks my teeth will be fine given time and no further trauma."

"I'd advise avoiding your brother-in-law for a while longer then."

Mycroft sighed. "Will John and Verity be staying with you for very long?"

"I don't think John knows what he's doing at the moment but I know they're planning to stay for another week at least."

"And Verity? Is she...well?"

"Confused, mostly. She keeps asking for Sherlock. Your mother cries every time she does and John...John's only here physically at the moment."

Siger could hear Mycroft breathing. "If there's anything at all I can do Father, please just let me know."

Siger thought for a moment. "If you could get all these bloody reporters off the driveway and out of the village I'd be grateful. I want to take Verity out for some air but they're all out there like vultures."

"I'll see what I can do. I'll phone again tomorrow but please call if there's...if there's anything."

"I will. Bye Mycroft."

\- - - - -

Two hours later Siger found himself staring out of the window on the upstairs hallway, looking out over the fields behind the house. The path in the distance was clear of photographers for the first time in what felt like an age, replaced by some sleek black cars.

As he was thinking about how short a period of time had actually passed a tiny hand worked it's way into his. 

"Hungry Grandpa."

He forced a smile for the sleep rumpled little girl and bent to pick her up, ignoring the ache in his back. 

He looked at his watch and was surprised to find it was almost two o'clock.

"Silly Grandpa, it's gone lunch time. Is Papa still asleep?"

She nodded with her head on his shoulder as he carried her down to the kitchen. Violet was asleep in a chair in the sitting room. 

He pulled the fridge open finding very little in there. 

"Come on sweetheart, let's go to the bakery."

He'd managed to leave the house quietly after leaving several notes for John and Violet in case they woke up. Verity had decided she wanted to walk and clung to his hand as they made their way down the path toward the village. 

Siger tried to convince himself that it was just a coincidence that there was a lull in conversation as he entered the bakery, that it wasn't personal.

The silence stretched on just a fraction too long for him to really believe it. 

The awkward moment was broken though when Alice, the baker and owner appeared from the back room. 

"Haven't you lot got anything else to do today?" She scolded her staff and customers. "Right then Siger, what can I get for you?"

He looked at the display, Verity clinging to his leg picking up on the funny atmosphere.

"Um...I've no idea," he said hopelessly.

Alice smiled kindly at him and pulled a paper bag out from under the counter. "How about some bread, and I've got some nice cheese here, that'll make a good sandwich." She tucked the goods into the bag. "And what about you little miss? Do you like cakes?"

Verity nodded wide eyed, still clinging to Siger's leg. "I like custard."

"Ah, well I've got some nice custard tarts here." She smiled at Siger. "Violet always gets eccles cakes when she comes in, so I'll put those in, and a few sausage rolls, and here..." She tucked a few more things into the bag. "Here you go Siger."

"Thank you," he said, relieved to not have to make a decision. 

"Hungry, Grandpa," Verity said tugging Siger's sleeve. 

Alice smiled and picked up a miniature gingerbread man. "Here you go darlin'."

"Thank you," she said shyly. 

"How much-" Siger asked.

Alice shook her head. "On me. Terrible business all this in the press. I'm sorry Siger, for your loss."

Siger's throat seized up and he nodded weakly. "Thank you. Come on sweetheart we need to buy milk."

\- - - - -

Every time John closed his eyes he saw Sherlock.

He saw Sherlock on the roof of Bart's. He saw him with his hand outstretched toward John. He saw him falling. He saw him limp and bloody on the pavement.

In between these most recent ( _the last, he thought_ ) mental images of Sherlock there came others. 

Sherlock on the day they first met, skinny and cocky and so handsome. Sherlock the second before John kissed him for the first time, his face the first time they had sex. The look on his face as he told John he was interested in breeding and bonding. The look of pure wonder as he held Verity for the first time. How he looked in just his dressing gown making tea. The sight of him talking to the skull. How he looked naked in their bed. The way he grinned at John about a shared private joke. The way he looked when John woke up first and watched him sleep. 

John saw all of this every time he closed his eyes. Saw his memory versions of his mate, feeling like they were taunting him with exactly what he'd lost.

John was certain that the only thing worse than seeing all this when he closed his eyes, was opening them and not seeing Sherlock at all. 

He forced his eyes to stay open though when he realised that Verity wasn't still in bed with him. 

He felt himself panic but pushed it down and forced himself out of bed to find her. He padded down the stairs and toward the kitchen where he could hear movement. 

He watched from the doorway for a moment as Siger cut her sandwich into smaller pieces and nudged the cherry tomatoes that she'd sent rolling away back onto her plate. She smiled at him and he stroked her hair, hair that needed a good brushing and possibly a wash too. 

This was what he had to open his eyes for, he realised. His daughter needed him to be functional. He'd grown up with an alcoholic father so knew the damage of one non-functional parent nevermind what damage one dead one and one useless one could do. 

Verity noticed him as he stepped into the kitchen. 

"Papa," she grinned squirming out of her seat and into his arms. 

"Hi baby, are you ok?" He asked sitting at the table and pulling her plate in front of them so she could still eat. 

She nodded around another tomato. "Feeling better?" She asked him. 

He nodded softly kissing her hair. "A little bit."

He held her tightly and breathed her in. She still smelled like Sherlock. 

\- - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote:
> 
> And if you're still breathing you're the lucky ones, 'cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs.
> 
> Youth - Daughter


	17. Now - Feels like concrete

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all,
> 
> So sorry this has taken so long, real life has been super hectic, in a way that's been awesome, it's just left me with no writing time. Hopefully that should ease off a bit now.
> 
> Thanks for reading those of you that have stuck with this story!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it :-) W

** Now - Feels like concrete **

John had barely put the phone down when Will spoke up. 

"No luck?"

John shook his head. "No, she said it'd set a bad example to give us an extra ticket when she's said no to other parents."

"Right..."

John sighed and leaned on the kitchen counter. "I did point out that it's unlikely that any other child will have a parent come back from the dead, but she was standing firm."

"I'm not giving up my ticket," Will frowned.

"I'm not asking you to," John sighed. 

"Good, because I'm not missing this."

John rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I know, Will, I know. I'm not asking you to miss this, Verity wants you there."

"She wants him there more."

John rolled his eyes and turned around pulling bits to make a sandwich out of the fridge. 

He heard Will move from the dining table to the kitchen area. 

"I know it's true."

"Will-"

"Don't," Will said with a shake of his head. "I don't need you to lie to me to try and make me feel better."

"I'm not, it's just...Sherlock's new and exciting to her at the moment-"

"And then when he's not new he'll still be her actual dad and more important to her than I am."

John stared at Will for a moment before sighing. "That's probably true. I don't...I don't have an answer for that."

Will dropped back against the back of a chair. "I don't need an answer, I just need you to see that this is difficult for me too. Y'know when we first started dating and I told my friends that I was seeing someone with a kid they all said it'd be hard being the third parent, but I wasn't, not in day to day practical terms."

"Will-"

"No," he said raising a hand. "I'm not sorry that Sherlock's not dead, of course not, I'd rather us have this awkwardness and Verity have her dad. This is just...hard for me too."

John nodded and moved to wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him close as he kissed his neck. "I know, I'm sorry, I know. I don't want you to think I don't know that."

Will nodded against his shoulder. "She hasn't called me daddy for ages now."

John closed his eyes and squeezed Will tighter. "I'm sorry."

Will shook his head and returned John's squeeze. "Don't. It's just...I liked it y'know, and I'm just a bit sad that she probably won't ever call me it again."

John didn't know what else to say. Everything Will had said was true. Verity would always place Sherlock above Will, in both importance and affection. She probably wouldn't call Will daddy again. Will had been demoted from second place to third. 

"I love you, I know you didn't sign up for this," John said softly. 

Will nodded and sighed leaning back and stroking a hand over John's hair letting his hand rest on his cheek. "Thanks." He took a deep breath and straightened up. "Come on, let's go out for lunch, whatever you're planning with this," he held up a bit of limp celery, "looks very disappointing."

John smiled and opened the bin for Will to drop the celery in, deciding to let the subject go for now. "Sounds great." 

\- - - - - 

Verity had run up to what was going to be her bedroom at 221b to check on how the painting was going and if it was suitably pink. Sherlock thought it was like walking into a giant marshmallow. Verity was thrilled by the comparison. 

"Tea?" He asked John moving through to the kitchen as John nodded. 

"Sherlock," John started awkwardly. 

Sherlock looked at him, deductions popping through his head. He waited for John to tell him anyway, remembering some blazing rows they'd had about Sherlock not letting John talk in favour of deducing his news. 

"I've spoken to the school, I can't get another ticket to the play. Mrs Hudson has said-"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and reached into a cupboard pulling out an envelope and handing it to John. 

"What's this?"

He sighed and dropped tea bags into mugs. "Open it."

John opened it and pulled out a ticket to the Year 1 Christmas play at Verity's school. "What? How?"

Sherlock poured water into the mugs. "I can talk nicely to people when I have a goal in mind."

"The headmistress?" John frowned. 

Sherlock shook his head as he stirred in the milk. "Obviously not, she's a woman ridiculously attached to her rules."

"Is it a fake?"

Sherlock smirked at the thought of forging a ticket to a primary school play as he carried his tea through to the living room. "No."

John sighed as he dropped into his old chair. "Will you just tell me."

"Verity is lucky in that she has a plethora of people who love her and want to be part of these events for her. Other children are not."

"Ah. So you chatted up one of the mums for a spare ticket?" John smiled as he sipped his tea. 

"One of the dads actually," Sherlock said with a bob of his head. "But more or less, yes." He wasn't sure why he felt pleased that John's smile had dropped when he'd said it was a man he'd been flirting with.

"Oh...so what was the price of the ticket? Coffee? Dinner?" John was trying to keep his tone easy going but even to his own ears it sounded forced. 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John over the top of his cup. "People can't just do nice things to be nice?"

John raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Fine, I said I'd help him get the necessary evidence to prove his mate's cheating on him so he'll get a great divorce settlement."

John nodded but was stopped from asking more by the sound of little feet on the stairs.

Verity climbed up onto the arm of Sherlock's chair. "Daddy it's so nice!"

Sherlock moved his tea out of the way as she squirmed onto his lap. "You're sure it's not too pink? I can have it repainted-"

"No!" She gasped pressing a hand over his mouth to stop him. "I love it."

"Good," he grinned kissing her hand.

John smiled at them, the easy affection between them making his heart squeeze and made all the more special for being something he thought had been lost forever.

"Hey Very, ask Daddy about the play."

Verity looked up at Sherlock with a big smile. "Are you coming?"

Sherlock nodded and grinned back. "Yes."

She threw her arms around his neck as she shrieked. 

He smiled at John over her shoulder as he hugged her back.

_'Thank you,'_ John mouthed at him.

Sherlock frowned and shook his head fractionally. As if John had anything to thank him for, strange man.

\- - - - -

John shifted trying to press his elbows in as close to his sides as possible. He wasn't sure how he'd ended up sandwiched between Will and Sherlock but as Will had gone down the row of seats first in an effort to keep his distance fron Sherlock and Mrs Hudson had wanted the aisle seat because of her hip, he and Sherlock had ended up crammed next to each other, the seats close together in the small school hall. 

They'd sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before the lights dimmed and the curtains raised. 

John couldn't keep the grin off his face at the sight of Verity and her classmates in their little festive outfits. He flicked a glance at Sherlock, expecting at least boredom if not outright disdain. Instead he found the man watching intently. 

He nudged the alpha with his elbow, smiling at him as Sherlock looked around. He smiled as he caught John's eye but quickly turned back to the squeaky rendition of Little Donkey.

When the stage cleared of most of the children leaving just a shepherd and his sheep, including his daughter, John found himself blinking quickly to clear his suddenly blurry vision.

Just as he'd managed to get a grip on himself he felt Sherlock squeeze his upper arm, his hand resting there. John looked briefly down at the point of contact between them, Sherlock's arms crossed over his chest, his touch well hidden unless you were looking for it. 

John looked back at the stage but didn't move away from Sherlock's touch. 

As Verity stood up to deliver her line Sherlock's grip tightened and John leaned fractionally toward him.

_"Baaaa, what a bright star, baaaaa."_

John could see the way Sherlock's face creased along the edges as his grin grew. Sherlock turned and John felt the full force of his killer smile. 

"Our baby," Sherlock mouthed, rolling his eyes at himself, grin still in place as he turned back to the stage where Verity had settled back onto a very green fake hill and was enthusiastically pretending to eat grass.

John tried to focus on the stage too, but found himself watching Sherlock out of the corner of his eye, the sight of the man he'd mourned sitting next to him, the feel of his hand on John's arm more that he'd ever dared hope for. That he was here with John doing something as normal as watching their daughter's nativity play was beyond belief.

John looked back at Sherlock as he felt another squeeze of his arm and then Sherlock's hand was gone, tucked back under his own arms for a moment before the school hall erupted into applause. 

25 minutes later they were waiting in the playground for the children to be let out of the hall. Mrs Hudson was wiping her eyes, telling John that she knew she was silly but that it had just been so lovely. Will was studiously avoiding even looking at Sherlock, occasionally agreeing with Mrs Hudson's various comments as Sherlock stood silently waiting for his daughter to appear and break the tension. 

When she eventually appeared, still in her sheep costume, she flung herself at Sherlock who hoisted her up to rest on his hip.

"Daddy did you see me?!" She beamed. 

He nodded and smiled giving her a squeeze. "I did darling, you were wonderful, best thing in the play."

She grinned and wrapped her arms around him asking if he'd seen the other sheep, the star, the baby Jesus.

"Oh it's so lovely seeing them together isn't it John?" Mrs Hudson said quietly, wiping away more tears. 

John watched them for a moment, his mate - _ex-mate_ \- and child chatting easily, adoration clear on both their faces, and nodded. "It's wonderful, Mrs H."

He startled as a throat was cleared behind him and he realised that for a moment he'd completely forgotten that Will was there with them. 

"Dinner?" Will asked, his expression resigned. 

"Yes, yes, great, yes, dinner!" John knew his overly cheery tone was worse than if he'd not responded at all.

"Where are we going?" Verity asked, twisting in Sherlock's arms and acknowledging anyone other than Sherlock for the first time since she'd joined them. 

"We thought Giraffe might be nice," Will replied with a smile, certain it'd be a hit.

Verity frowned. "I don't want to go there."

"Oh, sorry love, I thought you liked Giraffe."

"Me and Daddy always have dim sum, that's tiny food you know."

Sherlock tried to hide his grin by burying a kiss in her hair, but he caught John's eye roll and grinned even harder. 

"Oh, ok, right, yeah, we can, we can go for dim sum," Will said, pulling out his phone, "Let me just look for where does that near here."

"Don't bother," Sherlock said, smiled decidedly more fake this time. "I know just the place." With that he strode off, Verity still on his hip leaving the others to catch up with them.

\- - - - -

Despite it not being especially late when they finished the meal, Verity had been tired out by the excitement of the play and once she'd eaten had crawled onto Sherlock's lap and fallen asleep against him. 

As the adults finished, Will got up to go and settle the bill after insisting on paying for everyone and Mrs Hudson excused herself to the loo leaving Sherlock and John to gently wake their sleeping child. 

"Verity," Sherlock said softly, stroking her hair. "Very, it's time to go home."

After a few moments of face scrunching and rubbing her eyes she begrudgingly came to. 

"It's time to go home darling," Sherlock said gently.

She shook her head and pressed her face against his neck. "Noooo," she whined. "I want to stay at your house."

Stricken Sherlock looked up at John who looked like he was steeling himself for having to deal with a grumpy child. 

Sherlock sighed and kissed her forehead. "It's a school night, you need to go home with Papa, I'll see you at the weekend remember."

"But I want to stay with you," she sniffled, her bottom lip wobbling dangerously.

He cuddled her tightly, speaking softly to her. "I know sweetheart, but you've got school tomorrow, and all your things are at Papa's-"

His reasoning clearly wasn't working as she turned and started sobbing against his neck.

He looked up at John totally lost for what to do next as the omega came round the table crouching so his face was level with Verity's head. 

"Come on sweetheart, let's go home and get you all cosy and tucked into bed, you can have a proper sleep then, and before you know it it'll be Friday and you'll see Dad then ok?"

She shuffled and turned to look at John. "Is that when it's my birthday?"

John nodded.

She turned to look at Sherlock. "Did you know it's my birthday then?"

He nodded and smiled. "Of course, I couldn't forget that."

"Did you remember even when you were dead?"

He pulled her closer as his stomach dropped at the question. "I'll remember that always."

She cuddled closer to him for a moment before letting go and turning into John's arms, letting him pick her up.

Sherlock stroked a hand over her hair before kissing her cheek. "Love you Verity."

She nodded but turned her face away. "Love you daddy."

"She'll be fine," John said gently. "She's just tired and has had an over exciting day."

Sherlock nodded. "And her father's come back from the dead and completely unsettled her whole life."

John sighed. "Don't be dramatic. She's an over tired little girl. I'd rather you didn't have a crisis about this."

Sherlock nodded but couldn't force an answer out. 

 

Later, in the taxi on the way back to Baker Street Mrs Hudson rested a hand on his arm. 

"Are you alright, Sherlock? You've been very quiet."

"Should I not have come back?" He asked turning to look at her. "Have I just caused more upset-?"

"Sherlock Holmes! Don't you ever suggest again that you shouldn't have come back. Regardless of anyone else, including your poor mother, that little girl is going to grow up with both her parents now, and that's more than enough to make up for any other upset."

He looked at her carefully, taking in so much of the past three years hurt that was clear on her face. "I'm sorry." 

She squeezed his arm and smiled kindly. "Silly boy. Oh look, we're home now, I've got some biscuits we can have with a cup of tea."

After tea and biscuits he found himself in John's chair with a tumblr of scotch, the photo album of Verity's first two years propped on his lap. He turned the pages carefully, finding himself thumbing over particular favourites, coming to rest on one of the three of them on Verity's 2nd birthday. That was the last one he'd been part of. 

He sighed and closed the album. Even if Mrs Hudson wasn't right, even if things would have been better for those around him if he'd stayed gone, he was too selfish to contemplate it as something that had ever been a real possibility. He'd loved John and Verity too much to stay and put them in danger, but he also loved them too much and too fiercely to keep away once that danger was gone.

 

\- - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote: 
> 
> The truth it feels like concrete  
> I drove into this wall yesterday  
> I wish I could be realistic  
> But my children, my dreams, went away
> 
> Growing Pains - La Roux


	18. Then - It reveals you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, 
> 
> I seem to have found a bit of time to write and a bit of motivation, phew!
> 
> Here's the next one, bit of a sad one, sorry :'( 
> 
> Hoping to have time to work on the next chapters soon so fingers crossed it won't be too long a wait.
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy! W :-)

\- - - - -

** Then - It reveals you **

John started slightly as Greg clapped him on the shoulder.

"What next for the van then mate?"

John shook his head slightly, trying to clear it. "Oh, um, I think that might be it actually..." He looked around. "I'll check through again, but..."

Greg looked around the still mostly furnished flat with a frown. "You sure? There's quite a lot of stuff still."

John shrugged and moved to the window running a hand over the desk. "Most of it's Sherlock's...was Sherlock's I mean."

"And you don't want to take some of it?"

John shook his head as he stared out of the window. "No."

"What about your chair then?" Greg asked giving the back of it a squeeze.

John shook his head again. "No, it's part of a pair."

"Well why don't you take Sherlock's too?"

"Because I can't stand the sight of it," he said finally turning around. "I can't bear to be anywhere near it."

"John-"

"No, no. I don't want to take _his_ things anywhere, because I can't bear the reminder of him. He didn't want us-"

"John, we don't know, Moriarty-"

"No!" John roared slamming his hand down on the desk. "I don't care about Moriarty! _He_ stepped off a roof, he chose that. He left me, he left Verity, she's just a baby-" he choked back a wounded noise, shaking his head hard. "I don't want to take his things, he didn't want us and now it doesn't matter if I want him or not because he's gone."

Greg stepped carefully toward him. "John, you need time to grieve, it's only been 6 weeks-"

"I don't have time to fall apart, I have a child to raise and a roof to keep over our head," John snapped dragging a hand over his hair. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to- it's not your fault..."

Greg searched for something to say, something that would help his friend feel better, but he knew there was nothing that would do that. "It's not your fault either."

John nodded and dropped back to rest against the desk, his hands on his knees, head slumped.

"John, none of this is your fault," Greg reiterated, leaning against the desk next to John.

Eventually John spoke again, quietly and sadly. "He used to say that me and Verity were his world, and I know that he loved Verity more than anything else, so it must have been me that wasn't enough ey?"

Greg rested a hand between his friends shoulder blades, feeling the weight John had lost in the last month and a half. "You can't honestly believe that mate. Sherlock was crazy for you, I knew him before he met you, it was so obvious how he felt about you."

John shook his head, wiping at his eyes. "Then why weren't we enough?"

Greg closed his eyes and rubbed his friend's back. "No one knows why he did what he did. Moriarty was a master manipulator, you know yourself what he could get people to do with barely a word, I can only imagine what he could do if he got inside your head."

John nodded but before he could say anything he heard shrieking that sounded like it was getting closer. He rubbed his face and moved quickly to the doorway.

"Hey, what's all this noise about?" He asked as he moved to take his screaming child out of Mrs Hudson's arms.

"Oh John I'm so sorry, we were fine and then all of a sudden she was crying and asking for you and then she started screaming when I said you were busy."

John sighed and shifted Verity so she was cuddled against him, her shrieking having died down to whimpers as she clung to him. "Oh sweetheart, were you a bit worried about Papa?" He stroked her hair gently as he rocked her slightly waiting for her to relax. "She's been a bit clingy the last few weeks, can't really blame her I suppose," he said to Mrs Hudson and Greg.

Mrs Hudson looked like she might cry as she watched the pair of them. "I can't believe you're really moving, I'm going to miss you both so much."

John sighed and moved closer, wrapping his free arm around her. "We'll still see you all the time."

"It's not the same," she smiled sadly.

"Nothing is, Mrs H, nothing is."

\- - - - -

John rocked a shrieking Verity on his lap, softly cooing to her as he threw an apologetic look at Sarah.

"Sorry," he managed to say in a lull in the noise.

Sarah sent him a sympathetic smile as the wailing started again. "Do you want me to come back another time, when she's feeling better?"

John shook his head. "No, no, sorry, she'll settle in a minute. She's not ill, she's just...upset."

Sarah smiled again. "Understandable. It's hard for little ones, they understand something's wrong but have no way of dealing with it."

John nodded and kissed Verity's hair feeling her little body shake with sobs. "Would you mind getting me the blue scarf from the hook in the hallway?" He asked.

Sarah nodded and got up to get it for him. He smiled a thanks as she handed it over, draping it over the shoulder Verity was sobbing against. The little girl snuffled closer to it, wrapping a bit of it up in her hand and holding it tightly. After a moment her sobbing eased a little, dropping to whimpers rather than full crying.

"Sherlock's?" Sarah asked.

John nodded and stroked Verity's back softly, her snuffles quiet enough to let John and Sarah chat easily. "Yeah...I guess it still smells like him. I found it the other day when I was unpacking."

"How're you settling in?"

He shrugged, Verity quiet finally, one hand clutching Sherlock's scarf, the thumb of the other firmly in her mouth. "Well, everything's unpacked..."

"That's good," she said, nodding at nothing. "Look John, I genuinely did just come to see how you were, but I wanted to talk about work too..."

"I can't come back yet," he sighed. "I just can't leave her at the moment, she's so unsettled..."

"No, no, of course not, and I wouldn't ask you to. I can sign you off for another month, it's just- and I hate to be practical at such a difficult time- it's just your contract with us was quite a casual one, so after this next month your sick pay ends..." Sarah trailed off shifting awkwardly. "I really don't mean to add to your worries, I just thought you'd rather know now..."

John nodded and smiled weakly at her, pulling Verity closer. "Thank you, for letting me know I mean, I appreciate it. Mycroft's sorting out the will and stuff, so, I think we'll be ok, but thank you."

Sarah nodded and they sat silently for a few moments.

"I'll, um, I'll leave you to it," she said standing up and pulling her coat on.

"Oh, um, sure, thanks for coming round," he stood balancing Verity on his hip, feeling her cling tighter to him as he moved to follow Sarah to the front door. "Sorry I'm really hopeless company."

She smiled and squeezed his arm. "I didn't come for company, I came to check on you, that's all. See you soon. Bye Verity."

The toddler turned her face away nestling into John even further.

"Bye," John smiled softly closing the door.

He sighed and kissed Verity's hair. "I don't think today's happening for either of us is it sweetheart? Shall we put our pyjamas back on and watch some telly?"

He smiled as the child nodded tiredly against him. "Love you Very."

"Love you Papa," she mumbled.

 

Later, when Verity was sound asleep against him he picked up the phone and dialled the familiar number of his in-law's.

_"Hello?"_

"Hi Siger, it's John."

_"John! How are you? How's Verity?"_

"She's been better," he replied, stroking her hair. "She's quite clingy, but..."

_"Understandable."_

"How's Violet?" John asked propping his feet on the coffee table.

_"She's still struggling to sleep..._

"And you?"

_"Oh...just trying to get through each day, you know?_

John nodded even though he knew Siger couldn't see him. "I do know, yeah."

_"How's the new flat?"_

"Nice, yeah, good to have a bit of a clean slate. Mycroft...he did a good job. That's a bit of why I was calling, did Mycroft say anything about...about Sherlock's will?"

_"Those boys, pretended they were so at odds all the time and yet they trusted each other with these most serious issues."_

John nodded again. "Mmm."

_"Last I spoke to Mycroft he said it was almost sorted...you could call him you know, John..._

"I just...I struggle, Siger."

_"I know John...Mycroft, he...he's done a lot wrong, but he and Sherlock...I think they were involved in more things than you and I know, closer than we realise..._

"I know," John sighed. "I'll try Siger."

_"That's good John. The will might be a good place to start."_

"Thanks...We'll see you at the weekend yeah? Come and see the new flat."

_"We will, John, maybe we could see if Mycroft's free?"_

"Yeah...maybe...we'll see. See you then Siger."

_"Bye John, love to Verity._

John sighed as he hung up the phone. He'd hardly spoken to Mycroft since he'd punched him at the wake. Mycroft had sorted out the new flat for him, dealt with everything at Baker Street and was sorting out the intricacies of Sherlock's will, while John had mostly communicated with Mycroft's various assistants.

Before he could think about it too much he picked up the phone and called Mycroft's office.

"John Watson for Mr Holmes, please."

__"I'll put you straight through Dr Watson._ _

Within seconds Mycroft had picked up the phone _. _"John?"__

"Hi, yes," he cleared his throat. "Yes, it's me. I just, I was wondering, about the will, um my, er, my paid leave from work ends next month and bills and things..."

__"Of course John, I'm meeting with the solicitor today, he should be able to release the funds this week."_ _

_"_ Thank you, that's reassuring _."_

They sat in silence for a few moments before Mycroft spoke again.

__"How's Verity?"_ _

___"___ She's not very happy at the moment, she's really unsettled and clingy, just putting my coat on makes her cry lately..."

____"I'm sorry John."_ _ _ _

John nodded and swallowed round the lump in his throat.

____"Perhaps I could come and see her? She always seemed fonder of my company than most people are."_ _ _ _

John sighed and stroked his daughter's wayward curls again. Perhaps it would be good for Verity to spend time with her uncle. She really did like seeing him - ' _Strange child,'_ Sherlock would say as Verity shrieked and grinned at Mycroft appearing in their flat. - and there had been so much change and so many people that she'd been used to seeing everyday that she now didn't see nearly as often now that they'd moved.

"Ok, just...just let me know when you're free."

There was surprised silence at the other end of the phone. _ _ __"Would this evening be convenient for you?"__ _ _

"Erm...ok, she's having a sleep now so she should be in a better mood by this evening."

____"Thank you John, I'll see you then._ _ _ _

___\- - - - -_ _ _

By the time Mycroft arrived Verity was having a tantrum in the little dining area of the kitchen, refusing to eat the sandwich that she'd specifically requested for her dinner and expressing her displeasure as vocally as possible.

John ducked out of the room to answer the door, causing her wailing to increase in both volume and intensity. He sighed as he gestured for Mycroft to follow him, both of them standing in the doorway for a moment taking in the scene before Mycroft spoke.

"And what exactly is she so upset about?"

John rolled his eyes. "That she asked for a cheese sandwich for dinner, and I made her a cheese sandwich."

Mycroft frowned as he realised once again just how illogical children were. He took in his brother-in-law's exhausted expression, the bags under his eyes greyer and more pronounced than ever before.

Propping his umbrella against the wall he moved closer to his wailing niece and cleared his throat as he crouched next to her.

She turned her scrunched pink face toward the sound, and Mycroft almost laughed at the sudden change in her expression, her eyes and cheeks remaining pink as her features smoothed into a smile.

"Myc!" She grinned and scrambled up to burrow against him, cuddling closer as he wrapped her in his arms.

John smiled at the sight. Sherlock had taken great delight in teaching Verity to call his brother 'Myc'.

"Now Verity," Mycroft said, standing up and pulling the little girl up with him, "what was all that crying about?" He sat down at the dining table in the chair nearest her small plate with a tiny crustless sandwich and some grapes on it.

She moved to bury her face in his neck for a second before looking at the sandwich, pointing one finger at it. "Don't like it."

"I can see that you've not even eaten any of it," he frowned tilting her back a little to look at her. "Have you tried it?"

John could imagine him using the same tone of voice on errant cabinet minister.

She shook her head sadly and pouted.

"Well, why don't you try a little bit? Papa made it just for you." He picked up one tiny triangle and held it up for her to take, but instead of taking it she leaned forward and took a bite as he held it.

Mycroft smiled at her. "There, that was very delicious I'm sure."

She nodded as she leaned forward to take another bite.

"Thank you," John said quietly, moving to make tea, keeping an eye on his daughter as Mycroft coaxed her into eating with a patience and enthusiasm that John had struggled to find in the last few weeks.

Verity was the calmest that she'd been for weeks, soothed by the familiarity of her uncle's presence. She sat on his lap to finish her dinner and happily babbled to him for a while about things that probably only made sense in her toddler mind.

Eventually when she was yawning and rubbing her eyes, she happily slid off Mycroft's lap and climbed onto John's resting sleepily against her father.

"I think it's time for bed hey sweetheart?" John asked rocking her softly.

She shook her head but the giant yawn she did told a different story and she didn't complain as John stood up with her as Mycroft did the same.

"Say bye to Uncle Mycroft," John coaxed.

"Buh bye," she yawned waving at him.

"Thank you for letting me come and see you both," Mycroft said as he let himself out. "I appreciate it."

John nodded. "You're welcome. It's been good for her. You can come over again, just let me know when you'd like to."

Mycroft nodded and was gone, headed back into London in one of his ever present black cars.

As John tucked Verity into her bed, he smiled and sat on the edge of it.

"Did you have a nice time with Uncle Mycroft today?"

She nodded and pulled her bear closer.

"He's ok isn't he?"

She nodded again and snuggled against the covers. "He smells like daddy," she said sleepily.

John felt like his heart stopped in his chest. He nodded slowly and kissed her softly. "Night sweetheart."

John leant against the wall outside her room, his head thunking against the door frame. Of course to her child's nose Mycroft's scent would be similar to Sherlock's, she was too young to make out the intricacies of their different scents. John ached for the scent of his mate, wished that he could find some trace of it as easily as his daughter could.

As the weeks passed he could feel his bond with Sherlock weakening. He knew that for some people when their mate died the bond vanished instantly, but for lots of others it was a gradual process, the once comforting and reassuring feeling of the bond becoming a painful reminder of what had been lost, a constant find press against the bruises left behind by grief.

John felt his resolve to stay strong weaken and he turned the lights off in the flat that he doubted would ever feel like home, made his way to the bedroom that Sherlock would never share with him, and pulled out a box from under the bed, retrieving Sherlock's blue dressing gown from it and wrapping it around himself. He'd been saving it for Verity, for some future moment when she needed the scent of her alpha father, but he found himself in need of the comfort of a scent that was almost as familiar as his own.

Wrapped in the blue silk tucked under the duvet he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For a moment he let himself imagine that he was back at Baker Street, that Sherlock was alive, that they were fine and happy. He imagined Sherlock crawling into bed with him after a case, cold feet pressed against his warm ones, soft kisses tucked into his hair. Wrapped in his memories he let himself drift asleep, the rumble of a voice that would from now on just be memories, running through his head, bringing him comfort in sleep in a way he couldn't find in day time.

 

___\- - - - -_ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote: Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you.
> 
> John Green, The Fault in Our Stars


	19. Now - I've built my dreams around you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can imagine the Christmas dinners..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo! Fear not, I've not abandoned this story. I had a major technology fail just before Christmas, seriously, all my devices that make writing and posting here possible died, almost simultaneously, at the most expensive time of year meaning replacing them wasn't immediately possible, nightmare! The hardware failure also meant that I've lost some work, for this story and others, so all these things combined mean it's taken me 3 months (yikes!) to update this.
> 
> Massive apologies for the wait, massive thanks to those of you who are still reading, and I hope you enjoy this now not seasonal at all chapter. I lost my plan and chapter outline so it might take me a while to catch up to where I was, but I promise this story isn't abandoned.
> 
> Happy reading,
> 
> Thanks, W

"I can't believe she's still wearing that hideous jumper," Sherlock complained to John as they drove toward Sherlock's parent's cottage.

"Shhhh," John admonished, eyes focussed on the road. "She'll hear you and be very offended."

"Unlikely, she's been asleep for twenty minutes," Sherlock said as he stretched out in the passenger seat. "I wonder if a love of hideous knitwear is genetic?"

"Shut up," John said, fighting his own smile as he glanced up at the rear view mirror, checking on Verity. She was fast asleep with her head lolling to one side. "I just about managed to convince her to take it off overnight. Mrs Hudson's already offered to knit her another one."

"Please no," Sherlock groaned.

John grinned, eyes flicking back to Verify. He had to admit the jumper was...lurid. the bright green background was eye popping enough, but the giant bunny face was just startling. The 3D fluffy ears were the icing on the cake, and Verity's favourite feature. She'd put it on as soon as she'd unwrapped it at the tea party Mrs Hudson and Sherlock had organised on her actual birthday, and had insisted on wearing it to her birthday party too.

"Your gifts were a big hit you know, even if you did go a bit overboard."

Sherlock shrugged. He'd missed three birthdays so what if he'd wanted to spoil her bit. "I'd got a few to make up for," he replied, repeating what he'd told Will when the other man had suggested that Sherlock had been unnecessarily extravagant.

John rolled his eyes but Sherlock didn't miss his fond expression. "She slept with the magnifying glass under her pillow you know."

Sherlock grinned, pleased that his gift had been such a hit.

"You know you don't have to do that don't you? Spoil her I mean," John said looking over at him. "She's just thrilled to have you around and probably wouldn't notice if you bought her anything or not."

"Mmm, but I spent all the birthdays I missed wondering what I'd be doing if I were here, so it was...satisfying to be able to do some of those things."

They drove in silence for a few miles before John spoke again, not looking at Sherlock.

"Is that why you've not complained about going to your parents for Christmas as much as you used to?"

"Partly."

John looked in the mirror to check Verity was still asleep. "Where we're you last Christmas?"

Sherlock was quiet for so long that John thought he was just going to ignore the question.

"Albania. I'd been stabbed in the arm two days before and was hiding in a farm building."

"Oh," John murmured, trying to ignore the clenching of his gut at the thought of Sherlock alone and injured. He'd patched the man up more times than he could count, it was his job to look after Sherlock.

"I'm still not sure it wasn't preferable to having to look at Mycroft's fat face across the dinner table..."

John let out a weak laugh, grateful to Sherlock for lightening the atmosphere, but still unable to shake the awful sick feeling that came from the thought of his mate injured and abandoned.

"Don't think about it too much John, I don't," Sherlock assured him as he fiddled with the radio. "It was necessary and now it's done."

John nodded. "Right." Even so the feeling of unease lasted well into the night.

 - - - - -

Sherlock lifted a still sleeping Verity from the car, ignoring John's teasing about using her as a shield between him and his mother, but nonetheless enjoying the sturdy weight of her in his arms. Before they'd even got three steps from the car his mother had thrown the front door open and barelled down the path toward them.

"Oh you're finally here," she cooed, pulling John into a big hug. "Oh look at her, my little angel. And you," she said sternly looking up at Sherlock, squeezing his arm firmly. "If you weren't holding my granddaughter I'd have some very serious words to say to you young man and I still might later." She cast a stern look at him before breaking into a huge smile. "Now hurry up and come in, I've made your favourite, a Victoria sponge."

Sherlock grinned and leaned down to kiss her cheek, pressing Verity between them. "Merry Christmas Mummy."

 - - - - -

Verity's first Christmas had understandably been spent at Baker Street, given that she was 3 days old and utterly unimpressed with the whole day.

Every one since then had been spent in the cosy familiarity of her grandparents country cottage. Santa had managed to find her there every year so she was certain he would again. The familiar routine had been followed, she'd had her birthday presents from Granny and Grandpa, they'd some of the chocolate cake that Granny always made that was shaped like a tree trunk that Granny always let her decorate with little plastic birds and small fuzzy Christmas trees.

After cake Grandpa had lifted her up to put the angel on the top of the tree and then he'd helped her lay out a carrot and some mince pies for Santa and his reindeer.

Everything was as it should be, and this year was even better than any of the others she could remember because this year Daddy wasn't dead, and he and Papa both were in the same place and she wouldn't have to say bye to either of them for ages. She wished it was Christmas all the time.

 - - - - -

John closed Verity's bedroom door, grinning to himself at the thought of her face the next morning when she saw the very stuffed stocking downstairs.

He crept away from her room almost bumping into Sherlock as he snuck down the dark hall.

"Oh! Sorry," he whispered. "Just went in to check she's actually asleep, she was so excited I thought she might not manage it."

Sherlock smiled and nodded but said nothing as handed a small gift to John.

"Bit early," John smiled taking the box from him.

"I wanted go give it to you on Verity's birthday but I didn't get chance."

"What's it for?" John asked, eyes on the box rather than Sherlock.

"It's for you, for Verity's birthday. A thank you, for her, I suppose."

John finally looked up at him. "I didn't think you'd remember."

Sherlock had bought him a gift on Verity's first and second birthdays, but John hadn't supposed two was enough to make a tradition but it looked like it was for Sherlock.

"I, um...Thank you Sherlock, you really didn't have to."

"I know," Sherlock smiled briefly. "Goodnight John. I told Verity to wake me up first in the morning so I'll hold her off if it's too early."

"Oh, lovely, thanks." John hesitated awkwardly on the landing. "Um, night then."

Sherlock nodded but didn't make any move away either. After Nawkward moment John shuffled passed, clinging to his gift and ignoring the way that just brushing passed Sherlock made his skin tingle.

As he lay in bed John turned the still wrapped gift round and round in his hands. He hadn't expected Sherlock to get him a gift and he felt oddly reluctant to open it. After an internal debate that made him feel like a teenager he scrubbed a hand over his face, told himself not to be ridiculous and pulled the wrapping paper of the present, opening the box inside it to reveal an obviously very old compass.

He frowned in confusion at it. It was beautiful, old and elaborately patterned. He carefully eased it out of the box, turning it over in his hand and finding an inscription on the other side.

_You are one fixed point in a changing age_

He started at it for what felt like an age, unsure what he was meant to take from that. Did it even mean anything? From the tarnish and wear on it John could tell the inscription was old, and knowing Sherlock it could easily have just been something he thought John would like rather than something with some hidden deeper meaning. He turned it over a few times before holding it inscription side up again. He was grateful at least that Sherlock hadn't given it to him in front of Will, though the fact that he hadn't made John reconsider his idea that it wasn't a significant gift.

He huffed and put the compass back in the box, burying it at the bottom of his weekend bag. He forced himself to get back into bed and not to go to Sherlock and demand he tell him exactly what he meant by giving him gift like that. Only the thought of his excitable daughter waking him up in - Christ, in 5 hours - made him stay in his bed, even if he did silently have an argument with Sherlock about the appropriate timing for confusing gifts.

 - - - - -

The next day was a blur of gifts and food and drinks before John knew it out was almost 3pm and he realised he'd not looked at his phone all day, nor had he been in touch with Will. He stood from his chair but before he could even fully get up Violet's warm hand squeezed his shoulder gently, giving him back into his chair and handing him mug of mulled wine.

"John Watson, sit down at once! The Queen is about to give her speech and you absolutely cannot miss that," she exclaimed, bustling over to sit with Siger on small sofa.

John grinned as Sherlock rolled his eyes but noticed that the man made no move to disobey his mother's instructions and remained sitting with Verity on the floor helping her construct what seemed to be an ever more complicated Lego fort.

The Queen's speech lead on to an afternoon cheese board, even though after lunch everyone had claimed to be too full to ever eat again due to the magnificent fest that Violet had prepared. That said, when she'd set down the enormous tray of various cheeses, crackers, grapes, chutneys and figs, everyone had managed to find a little space to graze on the assembled goodies.

"Oh the port!" Violet gasped moving to stand up, but this time it was John that placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I'll get it Violet, you've done plenty today."

"Oh thank you John, it's in a decanter in the dining room. Siger! Get the port glasses please."

As John returned to the snug where they'd assembled after lunch and not left since, he stood in the doorway for a moment, the decanter pressed to his chest.

Verity and Sherlock had abandoned the Lego and Verity was sitting in Sherlock's lap pointing at various cheeses and watching as Sherlock cut little bits for her to drop onto crackers. John grinned as Sherlock held out a slither of cheese to Verity but just as she reached for it he dropped it into his own mouth, grinning at her outraged look.

"Daddy, that was my cheese! Get your own!"

John's grin widened as she then proceeded to ask Sherlock to cut a piece of another one for her.

"I think this has been our best Christmas for years," Siger said quietly from where he was stood behind John holding a box of port glasses.

John nodded smiling at his ex-father-in-law. "It's been wonderful Siger, you and Violet have been fantastic hosts as always."

Siger smiled and nodded. "Having the whole family here, well, it's more than Violet and I could ever have hoped for, you too I'm sure."

John nodded but before he could reply Violet had spotted them and called it to them to bring the port in and get pouring.

John took a seat next to Mycroft once the port had been poured and everyone had a glass. Just as Mycroft was slicing some cheese Verity shrieked.

"Don't eat that Uncle Myc, it's mouldy!" And before anyone could stop her she'd hopped out of Sherlock's lap and knocked the cheese out of Mycroft's hand in what everyone agreed during the ensuing hilarity was a very chivalrous act. By the time they'd explained to her why some foods were ok to eat mouldy and some weren't John's face ached from laughing.

Eventually with bellies full of cheee and a comforting amount of port drunk they moved into the living room to doze and watch tv. As Verity got comfy on John's lap Sherlock appeared in his coat.

"Just going out for some air."

"Me too," Mycroft added pulling his jacket on and following his brother.

John rolled his eyes knowing he should voice his disapproval at Sherlock smoking, but he couldn't bring himself to make a fuss in the face of the cosy, relaxed atmosphere he was currently enjoying.

"Where are the boys?" Violet asked as she settled in her chair with a cup of tea, Siger thoroughly engrossed in a crossword puzzle.

"Getting some air," John said with an eye roll. He was surprised when Violet chuckled.

"Those boys, if I wasn't in such a good mood I'd have their hides."

John grinned as she settled into her chair looking like a particularly cuddly teddy bear and not threatening at all.

 - - - - -

Later, after far more food than anyone really needed and a few large measures of Siger's good brandy once Verity had gone to bed, Sherlock excused himself for more air and went and stood under a gazebo at the back of his parents' cottage. It was far enough away for the smell of his illicit cigarette not to travel into the house, and he'd purposefully not switched the garden lights on so he wouldn't be spotted.

He leaned against the railing pulling his coat closer around himself as he enjoyed the crisp evening watching the cottage for a moment. He could hear his mother laughing inside, and saw his father spinning her round the kitchen in a gentle waltz, the house glowing around them with Christmas lights. He should have expected it, but of all the people hurt by his actions of the last three years, his parents had understood and forgiven him the easiest. He shouldn't have expected anything less really, they'd always given him far more than he deserved.

He turned away from the house, tucking some of his memories into his mind palace. Verity's glee as she unwrapped the pile of gifts she'd received, the way she'd sat on his lap after they'd finished lunch and everyone else carried on eating, the way she'd rested against him as she fell asleep, insisting that she wasn't tired. He'd imagined all these moments while he was away, but nothing could compare to the reality of them. He was so lost in his thoughts that he was momentarily surprised when John leant against the edge of the gazebo next to him, his hip pressing against Sherlock's.

"Your mother will be so cross if she sees you with that."

He could hear the smile in John's voice as he said it, and turned his head to see the smile for himself. John grinned as he handed a brandy glass that was fuller than was customary to Sherlock.

"Thought this might help with the chill."

Sherlock watched as John raised his glass to him.

"Merry Christmas Sherlock."

He shifted his cigarette in his hand and met John's glass with his own. "Merry Chrismas John."

They sipped their drinks in comfortable silence for a moment before John turned fractionally to him.

"Why did you get me that present?"

Sherlock stayed where he was, staring out across the fields. "It was a gift for you on Verity's birthday."

"I know that," John nodded. "But why that gift?"

"Do you dislike it?" Sherlock said, finally turning to face him.

John shook his head. "No, it's lovely...expensive I'm sure."

Sherlock shrugged. "I've not exactly spent a lot the that few years."

John watched him quietly still waiting for an answer.

"I thought you'd like it, and I thought the inscription was...fitting," he said awkwardly, looking away to take a sip of his brandy.

"Sherlock..." John started but trailed off without saying anything more, his eyes still fixed on Sherlock's face.

"I thought of you both almost constantly when I was gone. You were...you were what I was working to get back to, my goal. The thought of getting back to you both probably saved my life on multiple occasions so when I saw the compass I thought that inscription was...appropriate." He sipped at his drink again to cover up how uncomfortable he was at revealing so much. He could see John watching him out of the corner of his eye but didn't turn to look at him.

Eventually John shifted a little to lean back against the railing. "Your parents spoiled Verity rotten again," he smiled into his glass as he took a large gulp.

Sherlock huffed out a laugh. "I can't imagine they've been any different while I've been away?"

John shook his head. "Worse if anything. They've been amazing though, I'm glad we could have this Christmas, it's meant a lot to them, I've not seen your mum like this for a long time."

Sherlock nodded. "She said that you'd been a great support for her."

John smiled and took another drink. "I think she's got that backwards."

They stood in silence for a moment both sipping their drinks, Sherlock finishing his cigarette and stubbing it out on the floor.

"Your mum will spot that in a second," John tutted resting his glass on the gazebo railing, before leaning down to pick up the cigarette butt, stumbling as he stood up, Sherlock reaching out to steady him.

"Are you drunk?" Sherlock smirked, narrowing his eyes at him.

John grinned up at him, still leaning on Sherlock's arm. "I think your father's been a bit generous with his drinks measures this evening."

"Mmm," Sherlock agreed, one eyebrow raised.

"And I've probably had a couple more than usual, since I'm surrounded by such willing babysitters."

Sherlock nodded and tried not to stare at John. His cheeks were pink from the cold and the brandy, his eyes shiny. He was warm in Sherlock's hands and he realised that it was the first time he'd touched John since he'd been back. He should step away, he knew this. John was steady on his feet now, he didn't need Sherlock to hold him up, but he couldn't move and John hadn't stepped back either. It had been years since he'd had chance to really look at this man, his mate, the father of his child, and in the weak light of the garden John looked lovelier to Sherlock than ever.

Just as he realised he should probably let go of John, he realised the man was staring up at him too.

"John..." He said quietly and before he could say more John had slid his hands up Sherlock's forearms, one hand moving up to rest against his neck, the other moving to Sherlock's skinny hip, pulling him close as John's lips crashed against his.

For a moment Sherlock was stunned, too surprised by the warm press of John's lips on his, the scent of his mate strong around him. John obviously sensed Sherlock's hesitation but the feel of him pulling away seemed to spark something in Sherlock and he pulled John back to him, kissing him deeply. He cupped John's face between his hands, his thumbs stroking soft circles against the skin under John's ears. 

As they kissed John squeezed Sherlock hip, holding him close. As he pulled him closer Sherlock felt the firm evidence of just how much the kiss was affecting John press against his hip. John gasped into his mouth as Sherlock turned them round, walking them backward until John bumped against the railing. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck pressing up against him as Sherlock held him close. They moved slightly, John trying to get as close as possible to Sherlock.

The sudden unexpected sound of a glass shattering on the patio made John jump away from Sherlock a hand covering his mouth as he spun to look at the smashed remains of his brandy glass that they'd knocked off the gazebo railing.

"Shit...shit," John murmured rubbing a hand over his face. "I...I shouldn't have..."

"John," Sherlock stepped toward him but John held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't, please. I can't," John said stepping backward. "I shouldn't have done that, I just...I'm drunk, sorry."

With that he turned and fled running back into the house leaving Sherlock standing in the dark under the gazebo, the taste of John in his mouth and the scent of he and John thick in the air.

\- - - - -

"Where are you all going?" Sherlock asked the next morning as he wandered into the kitchen, surprised to see his parents and Verity fully dressed including their coats while Sherlock was still pyjama clad.

"Out for a walk!" Verity grinned. 

"Yes we are sweetheart," his mother interrupted. "Now go with Grandpa and put your wellies on please. I'll just grab some carrots for the O'Brien's ponies."

Sherlock frowned at his mother suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"Going for a walk sweetheart," she smiled innocently up at him.

"No," Sherlock said, narrowing his eyes at her. "It's something else."

"I don't know what you're talking about darling," she grinned patting his cheeks with both hands.

 He frowned as she turned to leave, his mother was a mystery to him. He'd turned to put the kettle on when his mother called to him.

"Oh and Sherlock?" She said waiting until he'd turned to continue. "There's a catalogue on top of the bread bin with the details of where you can buy me a replacement brandy glass, Mycroft's gone back to London and we'll be gone for at least an hour."

Sherlock actually gaped at her as she left the room.

When John emerged half an hour later Sherlock was dressed and had ordered his mother a new brandy glass. 

"Morning," John said, falsely cheerful as he bustled around making coffee. "Toast?"

"No, thanks. The others have gone for a walk."

John nodded with his back to Sherlock as he got butter and jam out of the fridge. "Yeah, Verity came to tell me."

The awkward silence continued until John had taken as long as humanly possible to butter and add jam to two slices of bread. When he turned to join Sherlock at the table he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, about yesterday. I, um, I shouldn't have done that," he said, anxiously crushing the crusts of the toast while avoiding eye contact.

"I don't think you acted alone John."

"Well, no, but...I'm sorry. I'm in a relationship, I shouldn't...It's confusing enough." John took a breathe and forced himself to look at Sherlock. "Sorry."

Sherlock shrugged with more casualness than he felt. "It's fine, you were drunk."

John nodded. "Yes." He sighed. "No. I mean, I'd had a few drinks but...It'd be a cop out to just say that, and you're...It's just...It's been a lovely few days, and it felt, it felt like old times and I just...forgot myself I suppose. Sorry."

Sherlock watched as John blushed and went back to crushing the crusts of his toasts.

"Consider it deleted," Sherlock said standing to pull his coat on. "I'm going to catch up with the walk, leave you in peace for a bit."

John nodded but couldn't bring himself to say anything before Sherlock had swept out of the kitchen.

\- - - - -

The next day John pulled up the hire car outside 221B and switched off the engine, turning to face Verity as he took his seat belt off.

"Are you going to say bye to Dad now Very?"

She shook her head and crossed her arms, avoiding looking at either of them.

"Ok then," he said turning away from her toward Sherlock. "Thanks for Christmas and for all the gifts. We'll see you on New Year's Eve."

Sherlock nodded and undid his seatbelt. "Bye John, bye Very."

As he opened the car door he heard Verity undo her seatbelt. "No, no, no, wait," she shrieked climbing between the front seats. "I don't want you to go," she babbled, close to tears. "I want to stay with you, I miss you when you're here and I'm not."

Sherlock sighed and sat back in the seat pulling his now crying daughter onto his lap. He sent a helpless frown John's way as he made soothing noises in Verity's ear.

John sighed and stroked her hair gently. "Oh Very, you can stay tonight with Daddy if you want, he already offered."

She shook her head against Sherlock's neck still crying. "But then you won't be here too Papa."

John pinched his lips between his teeth before letting out a slow sad breath. "No, that's true."

After a few moments Sherlock gently eased her hold on him and leaned her back so he could look at her. "I want you to know that I would like nothing more than to spend all my time with you and Papa and I'm sad that we can't. But," he said, carrying on as her bottom lip wobbled. "Do you know what that means?"

She shook her head, her messy curls wobbling.

"It means that when we get to spend time together it's even more important that we have as many adventures as possible, and as much fun as possible. Does that sound ok as a second best?"

She shrugged but her bottom lip wasn't wobbling quiet so much.

"I love you Verity, even when we're apart know that."

She nodded and cuddled him. "I love you Daddy."

"Come on then, let's get you back in your seat," Sherlock said gently, wanting to leave the hard part to John but not wanting to be that much of an arse. "See you on New Year's Eve darling."

She nodded but pulled her knees up to her chest and looked away from him.

Sherlock opened his mouth but found he didn't know what to say so just shook his head and carefully closed the car door, pausing only to get his bag from the boot. He waved as the car started up, even though he knew Verity wouldn't turn and look and wave back, the sight of his little girl balled up and heartbroken taking the shine off the last few days.

 

\- - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title - You took my dreams  
> From me when I first found you  
> I kept them with me babe  
> I put them with my own  
> Can't make it all alone  
> I've built my dreams around you
> 
> Fairy tale of New York - The Pogues


	20. Then - Comfortably numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da! Less than 3 months between this one and the last!
> 
> Thanks for reading! W
> 
> \- - - - -

\- - - - -

"So how's the new job going?" Greg asked as John handed him a cup of tea. 

"Not bad, not so new now though," John replied as he sat opposite Greg. "Been there almost 4 months, but it's good, yeah, fit's in well with Very and everything." 

"Has it really been that long?" Greg frowned. "Sorry mate, I didn't realise I'd not been to see you for so long..." 

"Don't worry about it," John shrugged managing a weak smile. "Everyone's busy and I'm not much company, I understand."

"It's not that," Greg frowned. "It's just...I can't believe it's been that long." 

John nodded knowing they weren't talking about his job any more. "Mmm, 6 months just after Christmas."

Greg nodded but found himself at just as much of a loss for words now as he had been every time he'd thought about calling in to see John over the last few months. "How's Verity doing?" 

"Better," John smiled getting up to pull his phone out of his pocket. He moved to sit next to Greg, flicking to the picture gallery on his phone. "Nursery's really helped a lot. She's so social, being around other kids is good for her, a real distraction. Here," he handed the phone to Greg. "We went to Siger and Violet's a few weeks ago and she got to meet the neighbour's ponies." 

Greg grinned as he flicked through the photos. "She's got so big!"

John nodded smiling fondly. "Yeah, she keeps getting taller and taller." 

"She looks like him doesn't she?" Greg said sadly handing the phone back to John. 

"So much," John nodded as he tucked his phone away moving back to his seat. "Sometimes she gets this look on her face and it's so...just so Sherlock..." He shook his head and managed a tight lipped smile. "Just surprises me a bit every time, y'know?" John couldn't explain how surprised didn't even cover it. How those little glimpses of Sherlock in their daughter always made him stop short, and left him feeling simultaneously gutted at the loss of his mate all over again, and elated that there was still some trace of him in existence.

Greg nodded but found himself short of words once again. "How um, how's the flat working out for you both?" 

"Good yeah, good. It's nice having a garden right outside, even if it is tiny, Verity wants to fill it full of sand when it's summer, pretend it's the beach. I told her we can go to the beach instead but she wasn't as keen."

Greg laughed and felt a little easier. "And how about you?" 

"Me?" John asked brow furrowed. "Well I'm not that bothered about sand really, seen enough of it-"

"No, I mean, how are you?" Greg interrupted. 

"Oh." John sat back a bit thinking of how best to answer the question. He couldn't tell Greg that he still wasn't sleeping through the night, that along with his grief for Sherlock he'd developed an irrational fear of something happening to Verity and that the nursery had been very understanding about him calling at lunch everyday to check on her. He couldn't tell Greg that, no, he couldn't go and get a pint with him any time soon because apart from Siger, Violet and Mrs Hudson he couldn't leave Verity with anyone without feeling like he was on the edge of a panic attack as soon as she was out of sight.

"I, um...I'm improving," he settled on, because it was mostly true. He was doing better. He could handle Verity being at Nursery now, and he could cope with her tantrums better, help her cope with them better. He could go to work, and function, and make sure he and Verity were fed three times a day. They went to the park at weekends, they went to see Violet and Siger once a month, Mycroft came for dinner with Verity when he could. They got by. 

But for now, that was as good as it got, and he wasn't sure how to explain that to anyone. That getting by wasn't what anyone would aim for, but it was as good as he could hope for at the moment. 

\- - - - - - - -

Christmas was subdued. Violet had been on the verge of tears since he'd arrived at the cottage. on Verity's birthday, though she and Siger both made a valiant effort at keeping everything positive during the tea party they'd had to celebrate Verity turning three. Christmas Day itself was quiet. Mycroft was working on some international crisis or other, so it was just the four of them. John felt Sherlock's absence more sharply than he had for months. On Boxing Day he'd struggled to get out of bed and had spent the day in Sherlock's childhood bed, Verity out with Siger and Violet visiting the neighbours farm.

John was tempted to spend the next day the same way, but Verity had climbed onto his bed and stroked his hair and asked if he'd got poorly and he'd realised he couldn't waste his time in bed. He bundled Verity up in multiple layers and dressed himself similarly before carrying her downstairs.

"Oh! Are you two off out?" Violet beamed, making John realize that he'd worried her the day before.

"Yeah, I, um, I thought we'd go out, get some air," he said easing Verity's boots on. "I thought we might go up to the cemetery."

"Oh...really?"

John stood up setting Verity on her feet. "Yeah."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Violet asked, worrying the edge of her apron with a significant look at Verity.

John nodded. "I do, yeah." He held on to Verity's mittened hand. "We'll be back for lunch, I'll bring some cakes back."

Violet nodded but didn't say anything more.

\- - - - -

Verity huddled close to John's leg, and he stroked the side of her face softly.

"What's here Papa?"

He crouched down next to her pulling her close to him, kissing her hair. "Here's the special place that we come to think about Daddy."

She burrowed back against him. "Oh."

"We can think about Daddy anywhere, but here's a special place to come to do that."

She frowned up at him. "Why?"

John pulled her closer. "Because it's...It's nice to have a place to think about people who aren't around us anymore." He could practically hear Sherlock scoffing at that explanation and smiled softly. "See," he said pointing at the headstone. "That's Daddy's name on there. Sherlock Holmes."

Verify shuffled closer as she held her hand out to trace the letters, moving carefully from one to the other. "Sherlock Holmes," she said softly.

John nodded swallowing around the lump in his throat as he knelt in front of the headstone next to her. "That's right baby. So many people knew his name..."

She moved back to John, sitting on his legs. 

"We can talk about Daddy here, memories and stories. Can you remember any stories about Daddy?" John asked, wrapping her in his arms.

When she shook her head John closed his eyes, sadness overwhelming him. "Well," he cleared his throat. "Well I'll tell you some of my best stories about him then and you can share mine."

"What story's your best?"

"Hmm," he murmured resting his chin on her head. He smiled as he realised how much he'd have to censor all his favourite Sherlock stories. "Daddy once took me to a Chinese circus and, well, that's enough of that story. How about the time Daddy and I went to investigate because a man thought he'd seen a giant dog."

"A giant dog?" She gasped.

John nodded and smiled. "Yeah, it turned out not to be so giant though, but Daddy caught the bad guys."

"Did you help?"

John nodded. "A bit," he smiled.

"Next one Papa."

John smiled and kissed her hair again. "Let me tell you about the time Daddy learned about the sun..."

\- - - - -

That night as John tucked Verity into bed she leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck. John grinned as he returned her cuddle. 

"Love you Very."

"Love you Papa." She yawned and let go of him. 

Just as John was about to pull the door to he heard Verity's little sleepy voice.

"Daddy and me went swimming once."

John turned sharply looking at her sleepy face. "Yeah," he nodded clearing his throat. "Yeah you did baby, you did."

He clamped a hand over his mouth as he left the room, leaning back against the wall opposite. She remembered him. She'd remembered Sherlock. It was a tiny fragment of a memory but she'd remembered him all on her own, and John couldn't help the tiny slither of relief that he felt about that. Sherlock was the best person John had ever met and their daughter would have at least one memory of her own of him. She should have had thousands of them, but it looked like one would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote -   
> When I was a child  
> I caught a fleeting glimpse  
> Out of the corner of my eye  
> I turned to look but it was gone  
> I cannot put my finger on it now  
> The child is grown  
> The dream is gone  
> I have become comfortably numb.
> 
> Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd 


	21. Now - A good excuse to play forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's been forever, I'm so sorry. I sort of lost my mo jo with this one for a little bit but I feel like I'm back on it now and have found/am making more time to write. I've got the next few chapters in progress so I don't foresee a great delay between this and the next ones. 
> 
> Thanks so much to those of you who are still ready I super appreciate it!
> 
> Hope you enjoy. W :-)

John was elbow deep in washing up when the doorbell rang. He wiped his hands quickly on a tea towel and took the opportunity to shove half a biscuit in his mouth while he had dry hands. He opened the door brushing crumbs off his jumper, fully expecting it to be a delivery driver at the door and surprised when he looked up to see Sherlock in the doorway.

"Oh, um, hi," John managed to get out. "Um, Verity´s at school..."

Sherlock nodded. "I know, I just- I know you don't work certain days, and I wondered-"

John frowned slightly at Sherlock's halting speech. In the six weeks since Christmas they'd only seen each other briefly while dropping Verity off or picking her up. John knew he still felt awkward about the kiss and didn't know what Sherlock must have felt about it all and definitely wasn't going to ask.

"There's a case," Sherlock eventually said. "Will you come?"

"Oh, er, yes?"

"Yes?" Sherlock asked one brow raised.

John nodded. "Just let me change my jumper."

20 minutes later and John found himself on a crime scene for the first time in more than 3 years. Oddly very little felt like it had changed. Lestrade was still leading the investigation, Donovan was assisting. There were a few other familiar faces, only Anderson was missing, and John had heard all about what had happened with him from Sherlock.

"Hiya John," Lestrade smiled as he walked with them toward where the crime scene was taped off. 

John nodded as Sherlock walked ahead to duck under the tape.

"Didn't take long for him to get you back out here," Lestrade smiled at him, as they walked the way Sherlock had headed.

John shook his head. "To be honest Greg I've no idea what I'm doing here."

Greg opened his mouth to speak but before he could reply Sherlock called John's name. "Think you're about to find out mate," he grinned. 

After he'd examined the body John stood listening to Sherlock's deductions.

"Why would a Beta be-"

"She's an Alpha," John interrupted.

"What?" Sherlock frowned peering over his shoulder toward the body. 

"She's an alpha not a beta," John said again.

Sherlock frowned and crouched next to the body sniffing at the points where her scent would have been strongest. "But she smells exactly like a beta," he said looking up at John.

John crouched next to him closer to the victim's feet. "That's as may be but she's definitely an alpha." He sent a small nod at the mid section of the victim. 

"I'll take your word for it," Sherlock conceded, "but that brings even more questions, why does she smell so like a beta?" He stood up and strode away from the body. "Come on John!"

\- - - - - 

Five hours later and a rather shoddy home chemist had been arrested for manufacturing illegal hormones and selling them to desperate people who wanted to change their gender without having to go through the long process required by the NHS. When the latest casualty turned up demanding a refund and shouting about what a mess the illegal drugs were making of her the chemist had injected her with a lethal dose of a homemade poison and done a very shoddy job of disposing of the body.

John glanced at his watch as they left Scotland Yard. "Just in time to pick Verity up, how conveniently timed," he grinned at Sherlock. 

Sherlock smiled back, his post case high coursing through him. "I'll try and convince more criminals to work between school hours only."

John laughed as they walked. "If you could."

"Would you come with me again then?" Sherlock asked avoiding John's eye.

"Yes," John answered before he could think about it. He knew he probably should think about it more, but he also knew if he did he'd say no- work, Verity, Will, he had lots of reasons to say no. But he'd felt so alive this afternoon chasing after Sherlock, sparking ideas, helping, feeling useful. Those were why he said yes, he'd deal with the rest of it as it came up.

\- - - - -

And so an odd sort off routine emerged. If Sherlock had a case on John's day off he'd turn up to fetch John or text him details of where the case was, and until Verity needed picking up from school, John and Sherlock would race around London solving crimes. For that brief part of the week John felt like he had almost a decade ago. Before Moriarty, before Will, before Verity. 

He hadn't actively kept from Will what he was doing with his days off, but he hadn't told him either, and Will hadn't asked so John tried to convince himself that it wasn't lying and almost succeeded.

\- - -- -

To Sherlock's great annoyance his latest case involved sifting through reams of paper trying to find the one sheet out of thousands that would link the victim and killer and give him the last piece of the puzzle that he need to solve the case. He'd made it through one box out of about 15 before messaging John to tell him he needed his help urgently. 

Twenty minutes after texting a panting, red faced John appeared in the doorway. 

"What's going on? What's the matter you said you were in danger and needed urgent help," John gasped a hand over his racing heart. 

"I'm in danger of dying of boredom," Sherlock said gesturing to the boxes. "I need to find something specific among these." He looked back at the stack in front of him. "They're mind numbing- Ow!" He looked up rubbing his head where the magazine that had been on the arm of the sofa had hit him quite hard.

"You dick, I thought you were in real trouble," John scolded, stomping into the kitchen to put the kettle on. "I took a cab!" He called over his shoulder. "You owe me £17."

Sherlock looked up to defend himself but his protest turned into a smirk as he spotted that John had taken two mugs out to make tea. Not too cross then.

John eventually set a mug down at Sherlock's elbow, sitting opposite him as he sipped at his own tea. "Well come on then, since I'm here, what are we looking for?"

Sherlock tried his best not to smirk at him as he explained, not wanting to risk another magazine to the head. 

A few hours later John stood up, stretching. "Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "I'm not stopping just need a stretch and more tea."

Sherlock nodded and went back to his search. 

"You know, this reminds me of one of our early cases," John called from the kitchen. "The-"

"Blind Banker," Sherlock interrupted, his eye roll practically audible. "Yes, I remember."

John chuckled as he waited for the tea to brew. "Early days. I thought I was going to get Sarah shot." He rubbed his tired eyes remembering the chaos of the circus performers kidnapping them and Sherlock's eventual rescue. 

"Mmm," Sherlock murmured, suddenly much closer than John had thought. "A little bit of me hoped she would be."

John turned to face Sherlock as he rolled his eyes, grin ruining the effect. "Jealous?"

Sherlock nodded, completely unembarrassed. "Very. I always hated seeing you with those insipid Betas."

"Better if they'd been insipid Alphas?" John joked, attempting to lighten the tension that had suddenly become obvious in the room. 

Sherlock shook his head. "No, that's much worse it seems."

John held his eye for a moment. "Not everyone can be Sherlock Holmes."

"No," Sherlock murmured, his eyes flitting between John's eyes and his mouth. "Just me."

John nodded his eyes slipping to Sherlock's mouth for a moment. "Only you...and thank goodness for that," he said pulling himself together and away from Sherlock. "I don't think the world could handle two of you." With that he forced a smile onto his face moving back to the desk. "So, shall we carry on looking?" He asked, even as he started to shuffle through the papers again studiously avoiding looking at Sherlock.

\- - - - - - - -

A few weeks after the first case, John got home half an hour before he needed to go and pick Verity up, his plan to go straight to the school having been foiled by the fact that he'd got some unknown and hopefully not toxic substance on his shirt when he'd tackled the person he and Sherlock had been looking for all day.

He kicked the door shut and dropped his coat on the hook, carefully unbuttoning his shirt trying to keep the unknown substance from touching any more than possible. He went through to the kitchen to flip the kettle on and to throw his shirt straight in the washer, jumping out of his skin at the sound of a throat clearing in the living room. He spun round his heart hammering, his panic quickly changing to relief as he spotted Will sitting at his little dining table.

"Will! You scared me, what are you doing here? Is everything ok?"

Will nodded but stayed sitting. "Unexpected afternoon off. Thought we could go for lunch, a surprise, but you weren't here."

John nodded, retreating into the familiar routine of making tea. "Yeah, yeah, I was out, sorry, you should've text. Tea?" He smiled tightly.

Will shook his head. "I did text. You didn't reply."

John sighed and pulled his phone out. His phone was showing 3 unread messages and 2 missed calls, all but 1 of the texts were from Will. "Sorry I didn't see them."

"I know."

When John offered no further explanation Will spoke again. "Where've you been?"

John focused on making his tea would he considered whether lying would be better or worse than telling the truth. "Out."

Will rolled his eyes. "John..."

"Fine," John sighed. "I was helping Sherlock on a case." He crossed his arms over his chest, uncomfortable having this discussion half undressed.

"Sherlock?" Will asked, incredulous. It clearly wasn't the answer he'd been expecting.

John nodded as he huffed out a breath, turning to finish making his tea. "Yes, Sherlock."

"Why?"

John shrugged his back still to Will. "He asked for my help." 

"What could you possibly help him with?"

"Don't sound so incredulous," John huffed, clattering his spoon around his mug. "I do actually have a few useful skills."

"I'm sorry," Will said standing up and heading toward John. This was all going so wrong, all he'd wanted was to surprised John with lunch out and maybe an afternoon quickie before Verity needed picking up and instead they were arguing about Sherlock fucking Holmes again. "I'm sorry, I know you do and I know you used to be his assistant so of course-"

"I wasn't his assistant," John huffed dropping his spoon into the sink and taking his cup of tea through to his bedroom to put a jumper on.

"John? John, look, I'm sorry," Will said as he followed John. "I'm sorry, this is just all coming out wrong. I just...it doesn't feel...it's different when you're spending time with him because it's something to do with Verity..." He sighed again. "I'm not happy with you galavanting around London with your ex, especially without telling me about it."

John rolled his eyes, roughly pulling a clean shirt on. "You don't actually own me Will, what I do with my free time isn't actually anything to do with you."

"Of course it is, you're my omega!"

"I am not anyone's anything other than Verity's father! She's the only one that I need to answer to," John replied furiously.

Will rubbed a hand over us face, dropping to sit on the edge of the bed. "Look, I'm sorry ok, this is coming out all wrong. I didn't mean for us to have an argument, I just...this is such an odd situation, I don't know what I'm doing and I keep misstepping here...I don't think it's unreasonable that I'm unhappy about you spending time with your ex and me not knowing about it."

John watched him for a moment before moving to sit next to him. "Ok, I...I can see that, sorry, I should have told you I was helping him. I still...You knew when we met, when we got together that I wasn't some weak omega who'd ask your permission before doing something..."

"I know," Will nodded. "And I love that about you. I just...I feel like we're just getting further and further apart," he sighed .

"Will," John murmured shifting closer, one arms sliding round Will' s broad shoulders. "Look, I'm sorry, I...I know this is a crazy situation, and I think everything probably feels worse because we've not really seen each other much these last few weeks, with work and stuff." He gave Will's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Hey, why don't we plan something in, just us two? We've not done anything just us for ages. I'll ask Sherlock to have Very for a weekend, we could go somewhere if you like, or stay here, whatever you want." He squeezed Will's shoulder again. "What do you think?"

Will shifted slightly, still keeping John's arm around him. They'd not resolved the Sherlock issue at all, and everything still seemed not quite right, but a weekend alone with John sounded good, as much as he loved Verity it wasn't easy to get grown up time with a six year old around.

"Yeah," he nodded, leaning in to kiss John carefully. "Yeah let's go somewhere. Next weekend?"

John nodded and moved away, pulling a jumper over his clean shirt. "Sounds good to me, as long as Sherlock can have Very that sounds great. I'll ask him tomorrow when I drop Very off for her lesson." He bent to kiss Will's hair. "I've got to go and get her, I'll pick up something for tea on the way home, see you soon."

"Love you," Will called as John left the room, still sat on the bed.

"You too!" John called, pulling the front door shut behind him. 

Will sat where he was for a moment, still not able to shake his uncomfortable feelings at the unresolved conversation about Sherlock bloody Holmes. After a while he shook himself from his brooding to go in search of his iPad. He might still feel uncomfortable about Sherlock, but regardless of everything else Will was the one taking John away for the weekend, and he was going to make sure it was the best weekend ever. In fact, he'd make it the perfect weekend, he thought, thinking of the ring he'd bought, tucked at the back of his sock drawer, nestled in it's box in his rarely used flat, where it had been since the night Sherlock had come back from the dead. At least if Sherlock was looking after Verity he couldn't interrupt this time.

\- - - - - - - - - -

"Daddyyyyyyy," Very beamed as she launched herself at him, shrieking as Sherlock spun her round. 

John grinned at them, anyone would think it'd been weeks since she'd seen him, not two days.

"Hello Verity," Sherlock grinned, carrying her toward the desk where their violins were. "How was school?"

"Good, we drew snails!" 

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he set her down to stand on his chair. "Snails?" He asked turning to John with a raised brow. 

"She's six," John replied already filling the kettle up. "Snails are perfectly valid subject matter."

Sherlock thought for a moment as he got Very's violin ready. "Hmm, perhaps the different rates of decay in dead snails..."

"Daddy!" Verity gasped. "You can't hurt snails! They're very useful. And cute!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes again tucking Verity's violin under her chin. "Let's start our lesson."

 

When Verity had finished she was yawning from spending so much time concentrating, John helping her with her shoes looked up at Sherlock. "Oh, um, could you have Very next weekend?"

Sherlock nodded, stroking his daughter's hair as she leant against him to cuddle him. "Of course, do you...have plans?"

"Oh, um, yes, yeah, um, me and Will are going away. Last time didn't go so well."

Sherlock nodded but couldn't find anything to say. He knew what Will was planning, what he'd been planning even before Sherlock had come back, what Sherlock had interrupted with his return. "Of course I'll have her," he said swinging Verity up to rest on his hip. 

"Am I having a sleepover with Dad?" She asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Yep," John smiled.

"Where're you going?" She frowned. "Can I come?"

"No," John laughed pulling her from Sherlock's arms. "No it's a trip just for me and Will," he said pressing a kiss into her hair his eyes catching Sherlock's as he did so. He tried not to think about what deductions Sherlock would be making. "But you're going to have an amazing time with Daddy aren't you?"

She nodded vigorously against him. "Yeah but what will you be doing?"

"Boring things," John said setting her down to pull her coat on. "Grown up things."

"Like paying bills?" She asked as she zipped her coat up.

"Yes," John nodded avoiding looking at Sherlock. "Like that."

Verity chattered about how boring grown ups were as they went down the stairs, flinging her arms round Sherlock's middle as she said bye. 

"I'll bring her stuff with me when I bring her after school on Friday and then pick her up on Sunday evening?" John asked, keeping hold of the hood of Verity's coat so she couldn't wander off.

"Great," Sherlock nodded, holding the door open but standing mostly behind it. "See you then. Enjoy your...bill paying."

Sherlock felt a small sense of something close to satisfaction as John blushed and ushered Verity out without another word. Sherlock shut the door and for a moment rested his forehead on the closed door. John was going to come back from his weekend away engaged, there was no way that Will would let the opportunity pass again. 

Sherlock hadn't been naive enough to expect to come back and things be exactly how they had been before he jumped, he'd known he was risking everything when he jumped, but somehow he hadn't expected to lose everything quite so thoroughly. With a sigh he pushed himself away from the door and focused instead on planning some things for he and Verity to do at the weekend. He reminded himself that he'd been wrong when he thought he'd lost everything, he still had Verity.

\- - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Quote:
> 
> Let's pretend we never met  
> A good excuse to play forget  
> Let's pretend you never lied  
> So I can give it up all night  
> Swallow my pride and learn to forgive  
> When I'm looking for love I pretend it's you
> 
> Pretend - Tinashe


	22. Then - Whomever I choose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all,
> 
> I don't think I can apologize enough for how long it's been since I updated this story. There's myriad reasons why, not least of which being that I sort of lost my way with this one and didn't really know how to get to where I wanted to be.
> 
> Anyway, please accept my apologies. I've got the next chapter ready, and the one after that is in progress, so hopefully progress will continue at a swifter pace, though to be fair, it couldn't really get any slower could it?
> 
> Thanks to those of you who've stuck with this story!
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading, W

"It was so nice of you to come and see me Doctor Watson," Mrs Henley smiled sweetly at John from her hospital bed.

John smiled back as he stood up, squeezing her soft pale hand gently. "No trouble at all Mrs Henley. I was going to say any time but I'm hopeful you'll be out of here soon and then I'll see you once a week at the surgery for your prescription and your blood pressure test." 

Truth be told she could have her prescription automatically renewed and a nurse could do the blood pressure test fortnightly, but the old lady was all alone and she'd taken a shine to John when he'd moved to the surgery, so John met her during his lunch break once a week, not that she knew it wasn't a regular appointment, kept her company for 15 minutes, and she in turn asked about his daughter and brought him little homemade cakes and biscuits.

"Now, is there anything else I can do? Do you need anything from the shop?"

"No thank you dear, that's very sweet of you though. Oh! Actually, could you post a card for me? It's down there," she said, leaning over the bed to point at the locker. 

"No problem, I'll get that, don't go falling out of the bed," he replied ducking down to rummage in the bottom of the locker. There were 10 days worth of newspapers, hospital menus, paperbacks and several boxes of tissues. "Ah ha, found it-"

"Hello Mrs Henley," came a cheery male voice. "How are you feeling this evening- Oh, sorry, I didn't realise you had a visitor," he smiled as John popped up from where he'd been rummaging, card in hand.

"This is my GP, Dr Watson," she said, sweet smile directed now at the new doctor. 

"Nice to meet you Dr Watson, I'm Will Langdon, Mrs Henley's consultant." He held his hand out for John to shake.

"Oh, um, John, please call me John," he said as he returned the hand shake, looking up at the good looking alpha. As soon as he realised he'd thought of the other man in that way he pulled his hand back. 

"Don't get many GPs up here," the alpha smiled tucking his clipboard under his arm.   
"Ah, well Mrs Henley keeps me well stocked in cakes and biscuits so I had to come and check she'd be back on her feet sooner rather than later."

The lady in question tittered. "Oh you are funny Dr Watson. He's so sweet," she said, the latter directed at the other man who smirked at John.

"Always good to ensure your baked goods supplier is on good form," he grinned before looking back at the clip board. "Well it looks like a couple more days and you'll be back on your feet, which is excellent news."

John tried to subtly look at the alpha as he explained when Mrs Henley's next visit from a nurse would be and what would need to happen for her to be discharged. He looked sidelong at the man taking him in.

_Handsome_ , John thought, surprising himself with the thought. It'd been a long time since he'd thought of anyone as handsome. Hot on the heels of the thought came a wave of guilt. 

Sherlock was the last person he'd thought of that way. 

Just as he thought that the other doctor looked up, catching John staring at him and grinned at him. The pool of guilt in his stomach solidified and he looked away, clearing his throat. 

"Well I should be off," he said smiling tightly at the old lady. "I'll see you at the surgery soon Mrs Henley. Nice to meet you Doctor-"

"Will," the other man smiled, holding his hand out for John to shake. "Nice to meet you too."

John nodded and left, stopping at the nurses station to ask where the post box was, not as familiar with this hospital as he was with Barts. 

As he was about to leave the ward he heard someone calling his name, turning to find Mrs Henley's doctor casually jogging toward him.

"Sorry to be forward," he smiled. "But I just wondered if you'd like to go for a drink sometime?"

"Oh, um," John stammered for a moment before shaking himself out of his surprise enough to reply. "Um, no, sorry, I um...can't."

"No worries," Will smiled kindly. "But if you change your mind, here's my number." He handed his card over to John. "Nice to meet you Dr Watson."

John watched as the other man turned and left, guilt swirling inside him again.

It'd been almost two years since Sherlock had gone, but even thinking that the other doctor was handsome made John feel unfaithful. 

_Can't be unfaithful to the dead,_ he thought bitterly.

\- - - - -

 

Two weeks later John was trying to corral an unwilling Verity into a ladybird costume.

"I don't want to wear it," she wailed, pulling the tiny antennae headband off her head.

"Why not? You chose this costume Verity!" John was not enjoying Verity's phase of disagreeing with anything and everything she could.

"I don't want to, it's stupid! I hate it!" With that she threw herself onto the floor and began what John could see would easily turn into a tantrum of epic proportions.

"What do you want to be instead?" He asked, exasperated enough by the fact that so many of the birthday parties her nursery friends had were fancy dress in the first place, never mind handling the intricacies of which insect would be deemed acceptable on the day.

"I want to be a bee," she pouted, pausing her tantrum to see John's response.

"Ok, well, hmm, let me see...." He rummaged in her cupboard to see if there was anything he could fashion into a bee costume. He'd never imagined this part when he'd pictured having a child. Costumes and dramatics was all more Sherlock's area than his.

He sighed at the thought of _him_. Sadness and grief washing over him as usual when confronted with thoughts of his mate, but it's quickly followed by a wave of anger. He loved Verity and wouldn't be without her, but he'd never planned on doing this alone. The last two years had felt endless at times.

A shriek from her drew his attention back to the present.

"Ah ha," he announced, feigning cheeriness. "Here, let's put these on," he said pulling the ladybird costume off and helping her into some black leggings and a yellow t-shirt.

"It's not stripey," she frowned.

"Not yet," he grinned dropping the antennae back on her head. "But I've got some tape somewhere and we'll make you some stripes, and we'll use your fairy wings as bumblebee wings. How's that?"

She grinned and nodded. "Much better!"

Once the emergency bee had been constructed, John was rummaging around for the birthday card he knew he'd bought earlier in the week when a business card fell out of the pile of paperwork he'd been meaning to sort for weeks.

_Dr Will Langdon_

His earlier anger toward Sherlock returned. Why shouldn't John call the nice, handsome alpha who'd shown an interest in him? Why on earth should he feel guilty for it when his mate had made his feelings perfectly clear when he jumped off a building? Why shouldn't John enjoy himself for once without thinking about other people.

Before he could talk himself out of it he picked up his phone and dialled.

_"Hello?_

"Oh, um, hi, it's John. Watson. Um, Dr Watson, Mrs Henley's GP?" He thunked his head against a cupboard, berating himself internally for turning into a blathering idiot.

_"Oh hi, good to hear from you, thought maybe you'd lost my number."_

John could hear the smile in the man's voice.

"Ha, er, no, I just...anyway I wondered if you fancied a drink, a coffee or something?" John cracked one eye open his mortification at the loss of his conversation skills growing by the second.

_"That sounds great, did you have a day in mind?"_

"You're not free this afternoon are you?" He was half joking but thought in for penny.

_"I am actually, I'm working this evening but I'm free until about 4 if that works for you?"_

"Oh, um, yeah, err, I'm free between 12 and 2 if you can get to Battersea?"

_"Specific,"_ Will laughed. 

"Oh, um, sorry-" John said, awkwardness washing over him

_"No, no,"_ Will interrupted, his tone light. _"It's fine, where should we meet?"_

They agreed on a place near where John was dropping Verity off for the party, John rushing off the phone with a quick goodbye when Verity came running in.

\- - - - -

Will was already at the cafe when John arrived, sitting at a quiet table in a corner.

"Hi, um, sorry I'm a bit late, I um..." He dropped into a seat opposite Will. "I have a child, a daughter, I had to drop her off at a birthday party, in the park, hence this cafe." He blushed as he brought his rambling to a stop. He held expected Will to up and leave, to realise that he'd asked an idiot out for a drink.

Will grinned at him. "I bought you a cake."

"Excuse me?"

"A cake," Will grinned, pushing a plate across toward John. "I thought chocolate was a safe bet. And there's coffee in the pot," he gestured to an empty cup.

"Oh, um...Thanks," he said, pouring himself a coffee. "Just to check, you heard me say I have a child?"

Will nodded, still smiling. "I did, I was waiting for you to calm down to talk about anything more in depth than coffee and snacks."

John blushed but smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. "Good approach."

"Thought so," Will grinned. "Feeling calmer?"

John bobbed his head, smiling. "So so."

Will laughed. "Good."

They smiled at each other for a moment. John felt the nerves and tension ebbing away. 

"So a daughter? How old is she?"

"She's 4," John pulled out his phone, opening a photo of Verity from the weekend before when they'd visited Violet and Siger. She was holding a bunny that one of their neighbours had brought round for Verity to see. John turned the phone for Will to see.

"Adorable," Will said, still smiling.

"She can be," John chuckled. "She can be a terror also, but mostly lovely."

"And her other parent..." Will asked casually.

"Is...not in the picture." John set his cup down carefully, he'd expected Sherlock to come up at some point but not this soon. "He um, he's dead, almost 2 years now. It was...unexpected."

Will nodded. "I'm sorry."

John shrugged taking a deep breath. "Thanks. So, you see, that's why I said no, I've not done this for a long time." He met Will's eyes for what felt like the first time. "So I'm sorry if I'm a bit...awkward, I'm just out of practise. I used to be quite good at this you know," he managed a self depreciating smile.

"What, eating cake in cafes?" Will teased.

John barked out a surprised laugh. "Exactly."

Will grinned again sitting back in his chair, resting his cup on the arm. "It's ok you know, I'm not expecting anything. I just thought I'd like to spend some time with you," he shrugged slightly. "I'm enjoying myself so far."

"Really?" John asked, relaxing into his chair. "This has been a terrible date so far."

"Well, the coffee is great, and the cake's, excellent. The company's been so so but two out of three's not bad."

John laughed, a deep, real laugh like he hadn't done for ages. "I'll have to try harder."

Two hours later on the pavement outside the cafe John smiled at Will. 

"Thank you, I've had a really great time. I don't think I've laughed like that for ages."

"You're welcome," Will said. "I'm really glad that you called me. I'd like to see you again, if you'd like? Only maybe with a less strict time limit?"

John laughed and nodded. "I'd like that. I'll brush up on my moves before then, try and redeem myself."

"Your moves eh?" Will asked with a raised eyebrow. "I'd better prepare myself for that then. Are you free next week?"

"I could do Wednesday, my old landlady has Verity after school that day." John was surprised by just how much he was hoping Will would say yes. .

"That'd be great, I'll have a think about restaurants and text you if that's works for you?"

John nodded. "Sounds great, I'll see you on Wednesday then?"

"Yep, Wednesday," Will nodded sticking his hands deep in his coat pocket but staying standing where he was.

John nodded, fiddling with his coat buttons, also not moving. "Great, great..."

"So-"

"Well-"

They both started at the same time after a few moments silence. 

"Sorry," Will laughed. "You first."

"I was just going to say I should make a move," John grinned. "Before the other omegas add abandoning Verity at a party to my list of parental failings."

"Ah, like that are they?"

John nodded smiling. "Yeah. So, I should-" he pointed over his shoulder. "I should go."

"Ok then." Will held out his hand for John to shake, giving it a gentle squeeze as he shook John's hand. "See you on Wednesday."

"Yeah. See you then." After a moment he realised he was still shaking Will's hand, pulling away abruptly. "Bye." With that he turned and walked away, willing himself not to look at the man outside the cafe. 

The interesting, funny, kind, handsome alpha who was nothing like Sherlock, but maybe, John thought, maybe that was for the best. There was never going to be anyone like Sherlock, so if there was going to be someone new in John's life then why not someone totally different? John appreciated his logical argument even as the pang of guilt about going on a date with someone who was definitely not Sherlock reared its head. 

Sherlock left us, John reminded himself, trying to stave the guilt off. He chose death rather than us. He doesn't get an opinion on who I date or when. He sighed as he pushed open the door to the play area where the party was, wondering how long it'd be before he could make himself believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote: Since u been gone I can do whatever I want  
> I can see whomever I choose  
> I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant  
> But nothing  
> I said nothing can take away these blues
> 
> Sinead O'Connor - Nothing Compares 2 U


	23. Now - Often disguised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, two chapters in one week! I can't promise to keep this pace up but I'll try and be faster than I have been!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, W

"Are you sad Daddy?" Verity asked climbing onto Sherlocks lap

Sherlock frowned at her, pulling her closer. "Why would you ask that?"

"You keep sighing and you haven't smiled at all tonight, not even when Mrs Hudson told that really funny joke."

He was proud of her deductions, but hadn't realised how much she'd pick up on, and she was wrong about Mrs Hudson's joke, it was terrible.. "And that makes you think I'm sad?"

She nodded wriggling around to stroke his hair in the way he'd seen John do to hers when she was upset. "Do you want a biscuit?"

He grinned at her then, she was so like John. John who was off getting proposed to at any moment, John who'd given him this wonderful child, John who'd been his, John who he'd thought would be his forever, who'd grieved for him, and then forgiven him, but still wasn't his again.

Sherlock had known the chances he was taking when he left, but now the reality of it all was on his mind. Once John came back engaged it'd officially be the end of any hope for he and Sherlock. No chance of them bonding again, no more chasing criminals across London hand in hand, no late night conversations, no early morning sex, faces pressed against each other as they tried to keep quiet. No more anything of substance, just polite small talk while they handed Verity from one to the other.

"Hmm, nice try darling, but it's almost bedtime, no more biscuits. I'm fine really, don't you worry about me, I've just got a headache."

"Aww," she cooed patting his head. "You need some calpol, did Papa pack some? He usually gives it to me so I don't know how much you need but maybe Mrs Hudson would?"

He kissed her forehead, standing up with her in his arms. "Good thinking, I'll ask her once you're in bed, which will be once you've brushed your teeth," he deposited her in the doorway of the bathroom. "You do that and I'll phone Papa so you can say goodnight."

"Ok!"

Sherlock frowned as he called John's number, stealing himself for a _happy_ announcement.

_"Hello Verity," John answered cheerily._

"Oh, um, it's Sherlock, Verity's still brushing her teeth."

_"Oh," John laughed. "Sorry. How's she been?"_

"Good, she's reluctantly getting ready for bed so wanted to say goodnight. How's your trip so far?"

_"Yeah nice."_

Sherlock heard the background noise receed and a door shut. 

_"Sorry," John said. "The bar was a bit noisy. But yeah, it's nice, bit fancy. We stayed near here once actually, do you remember that case with the solid gold shoes, we stayed at that B and B, The White something-"_

"Boar," Sherlock murmured, leaning against the wall in the hallway closing his eyes and remembering it as if it had happened yesterday. They'd been _so_ happy.

_"That's it, The White Boar, god, that must've been, what 7 years ago?"_

"More like 6 and a half, you were quite pregnant with Verity at the time."

_John laughed. "You're right, obviously, I was."_

They were quiet for a moment and Sherlock wondered if John was remembering their stay with a new clarity. They'd solved the case and stayed for an extra night at John's request because he'd hit the point in his pregnancy where he was horny _all the time_ and Mrs Hudson had had an awkward 'keep it down' conversation with them once already that week. The slightly awkward silence suggested John was remembering it all too.

With impeccable timing Verity ran out of the bathroom making grabby hands at the phone. "My turn!"

"Well, I'll hand you over," Sherlock said. "Enjoy the rest of your trip."

"Thanks. I...Thanks."

"Goodbye John," Sherlock said as he handed the phone to Verity.

\- - - - -

Verity had been a bundle of energy all day on Saturday, but after a morning running around with Sherlock as he followed up some leads for a (very safe, very boring, but well paying) case and some take away sandwiches for lunch, she'd calmed down enough to sit quietly with Sherlock as he showed her how a microscope worked.

"Daddy?" Very asked from where she was sat on Sherlock's lap at the kitchen table, glancing into the microscope when instructed to. Sherlock had been fascinated by her reactions, cataloguing her thought process and logic as they looked at each slide.

"Mmm," Sherlock hummed as he set up the next slide.

"Where do babies come from?"

Sherlock froze at the simple question before carefully positioning the new slide and gently urging her to look at it. As she did he surreptitiously text John.

_Verity wants to know where babies come from. What's your approach to these questions? - SH_

John replied quickly, if unhelpfully Sherlock thought.

**You're her parent too, happy for you to take this question.**

It was swiftly followed by a second text.

**Nothing too detailed though, remember she's 6**

Sherlock rolled his eyes and showed Verity another slide while he Googled the topic.

"Daddy, my question," Verity reminded him, looking up at him. 

"Do you remember that we discussed that people are made up of lots of cells?" He began, deciding that Google was once again useless and he'd just have to explain it how he thought made sense.

She nodded, a little furrow between her eyebrows.

"Well everyone starts off as just two cells, and one parent has one of the cells, and the other parent has the second one, which they put together in the omega's womb - that's sort of near the stomach - and then sometimes a baby will grow in there."

He could see her milling it all over. "Hmmm," she mused. "Does each person only have one cell to make a baby? Is that why you and Papa only had me, because you ran out of cells?"

"No, there's usually lots of cells to try with," he said, positioning another slide on the microscope.

She bit her lip as she thought, still facing Sherlock rather than the microscope. "Then why didn't you and Papa have more babies?"

Sherlock stroked her hair gently. He'd wanted to have more children. He and John had never discussed it, but when John had been pregnant with Verity Sherlock had imagined how it would be the time after, and the time after that, he just couldn't stop himself from imagining a future with John and their brood. But then Moriarty had appeared before he'd felt like the time was right to share this imagined future with John and now...well now John was away probably being proposed to at that very second.

"Well, you don't get many chances, only two or three times a year, and we had you, and then I had to go away so there wasn't chance for more babies.

She frowned but turned back to the microscope. "Hmmm, it sounds boring anyway, making babies."

Sherlock grinned and gave her a squeeze. "Quite right darling."

\- - - - - -

"Everything alright?" Will asked, taking off his shoes as John replied to a text. 

"What? Oh, yeah yeah, just, Verity asking Sherlock about where babies come from." He dropped his phone on the coffee table, dropping into one of the plush armchairs in the seating area of the hotel room. They'd been for a long walk after lunch and John was looking forward to a quiet afternoon before whatever fancy dinner Will had booked.

Will laughed. "She'll probably come home with a scale model of the reproductive system."

John grinned. "Probably. To be honest I'm surprised she's not asked sooner."

Will sank into the chair opposite John reciprocating his grin. "Probably because she's an only child. I definitely asked my parents when my Pa was expecting my sister, I must have been...4ish."

John nodded and sank further into the chair, dropping his head back his eyes drifting shut, it really was remarkably comfortable. "Probably yeah."

"Ah well, at least she'll know if the situation does come up."

John huffed a laugh, his eyes still closed, face pointing at the ceiling. "Which it won't, so better she knows now."

At Will's lack of response John cracked one eye open and looked at him, finding him more serious than he'd expected. 

"You ok?" 

"Yeah, just...."

"What?" John asked, sitting up properly in the chair again, taking in Will's stiff demeanour.

"Nothing, I...You don't think you'd be pregnant again?" Will frowned.

"Well...no, I mean...I don't want any more children so, no." John leaned forward in his seat a little.

Will nodded slowly his lips bitten between his teeth. "Oh, just...you're so amazing with Verity."

John snorted. "I know," he said, dryly. "It's not some sort of doubt about my parenting skills. Will, I...I never realised children were on your agenda..."

"They weren't, as such, I mean...we've never really talked about it have we?"

"No, no we haven't, I just assumed, I mean for one thing I'm on the edge of much too old," John frowned.

"You're not though," Will said, brightening slightly. "Omegas can have babies well into their 40s-"

"Yep, and I'm 42-"

"But there's still time, I mean, fair enough, not _loads_ of time, but there's time." Will moved from his seat to kneel at John's feet, a small smile on his face. "There's time John. I'd never really thought about having kids in any serious way, but then I met you, and Verity, and I loved seeing her change and grow, and a little person calling me Daddy was just..." He shrugged and smiled. "I want to have a family, John, with you."

John cupped Will's face gently, his thumbs stroking the soft skin in front of his ears. Will was a wonderful man, kind and loving and a genuinely good person. But there in that moment, entirely unexpectedly, John knew it was the end for them. He wasn't in love with Will, not in the way that the alpha deserved to be loved, and now that he knew what Will wanted from his future, John just couldn't keep him from that. 

He leaned forward and pressed an ever so soft kiss on Will's lips. "You're going to be a wonderful father one day, I know that. But not with me..." He smiled sadly as Will's expression briefly lifted before his face crumpled at John's words.

"But I love you, I want you-"

John squeezed his face softly. "I know, but you want that too-"

"No," Will shook his head. "No, no, I want _you_ more-" he said, pulling John closer, resting his head against John's stomach. 

John shook his head and wrapped his arms around Will stroking his hair softly. "You're a wonderful person Will, but I won't be enough for you-"

"You will," Will nodded, looking up at him, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "You will, John."

John shook his head softly. "I won't. Maybe for now I will, but what about when there's all the big milestones that Verity's going to have - when she goes to senior school, when she has her first boyfriend or girlfriend, when she goes to uni or gets married, or any of those things...I can't keep you from experiencing that knowing that you want it with a child of your own, you'll resent me for it eventually."

Will shook his head and clung to John harder. 

John gently nudged at Will until he was looking at him, holding his face carefully. "Being a parent is a wonderful thing, and you're going to find someone who wants it as much as you do-"

"If it's so wonderful why don't you want to do it again?" Will asked, his eyes and voice heavy with tears as he held onto John.

John smiled sadly at him carefully caressing his face. "Because...because I'm too old, because I'm not even sure if I could - it took so long with Very and that was 7 years ago - because I just don't..." He shrugged softly. 

"How do you know? Those are just practical things..."

John hated how hopeful Will managed to sound still. 

"I...with Very, when we were trying and it kept not happening...I'd never wanted anything as much as I wanted her...even before we were trying, when we'd just decided to try I wanted her so much, so fiercely...I don't feel like that anymore, and I don't think having a baby should be done half-heartedly if it can be avoided." He smiled softly at Will. "You should do this with someone who wants this fiercely."

"Please," Will asked screwing his eyes shut. "Please just, just forget I said anything?"

"I can't Will, you deserve more than I can give you."

Will snuffled, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand as he sat back on his heels, not looking at John. "Is it because I'm not him?" He asked wetly.

John sighed sitting back in his chair. "Will..."

"Well you wanted this before didn't you, with him. Is that the problem? We were fine until he came back," Will finally looked at him, his eyes angry.

"We were fine, but if we'd had this discussion, at any point, we'd still have ended up here."

Will nodded slowly, his expression unconvinced wiping his hand over his face.

They sat in silence for a moment the atmosphere tense.

"I was going to propose tonight," Will said eventually, sadly. 

John swallowed round the lump in his throat, reaching for Will but being rebuffed as Will stood up walking away from John toward the minibar. "I was going to propose before too you know," he glanced back at John as he emptied a miniature vodka into a tumbler. "The night that Sherlock came back." He sipped at the drink before letting out a joyless laugh. "The thing is, I'd ummed and ahhed about when would be the right moment for weeks, I had the ring for a month before that night." He leaned back on the desk that the minibar was under. "I can't help thinking what would have happened if I'd just asked you when I bought the ring, before he'd come back..."

"Will, this isn't about Sherlock..."

"Course it's not," Will said with a roll of his eyes and took another swig of his drink. 

John sighed. "It's not. I know that it's changed things, it's made things...complicated."

"If I'd asked you to bond with me 4 months ago what would you have said?"

John sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "Will, please, even if you'd asked then and I'd said yes, it still would have ended up here when the subject of having kids came up, and it would have come up somehow, and soon probably, a colleague or one of your siblings would have been pregnant and we'd have got talking, and here we'd be..."

Will finished his drink and set his glass on the desk. "This isn't how I imagined this weekend going."

John shook his head. "No, me either."

After a few minutes of silence John stood up, approaching Will but stopping before he was too close. "Look, I think I should head back to London tonight..."

Will looked up sharply. "That's it is it? One discussion and it's over?"

"Will...What other option is there? We can't ignore this."

Will shook his head again, looking down at his feet. "I wish I'd never mentioned it."

John went to him then, stroking a hand softly down from Will's neck and down his arm to squeeze his hand. "You'll feel like that now, but you won't, in the future, when everything's how it should be for you."

Will shrugged him off and turned around. "I'll come to the flat to sort my stuff out."

He sounded resigned and distant, colder than John had ever heard him. 

"Oh...ok, I'll um, I'll explain to Verity shall I?"

Will nodded tightly.

"Will...Will, we...we can talk more-"

"What about?" Will shrugged as he turned around. " _You've_ decided that we're over because of this, what else is there to say?"

John sighed. "I haven't decided anything Will, I just don't see that there's any other option."

Will nodded, his lips between his teeth. "And it was just a matter of time wasn't it? Since he came back you've just been pulling away from me."

John shook his head. "Will, this isn't about Sherlock, this is us wanting different things."

"Oh really?" Will asked looking sceptical. "So if you were having this conversation with Sherlock fucking Holmes it would have gone the same way?"

"I can't answer that because it isn't what's happening! I'm here with _you_ , having this conversation with _you_."

Will nodded and poured himself another drink. "Sure."

John watched him for a moment. "Look, I think I'm going to get my stuff together and head back to London, I think if I stay here we're just going to argue, and I don't want that." When Will didn't reply John sighed and quietly went through to the bedroom and started packing his few belongings. When he went back to the living area Will had moved to sit near the window, his back to the room. 

"I'm, um, I'm going to leave now."

Will nodded but said nothing.

"I...I'm sorry," John started, but found he had no idea what else to say, so instead left and quietly shut the door behind him.

\- - - - - - - - - - -

"Daddy, is there meant to be this much of it?" Verity asked sitting on the toilet lid and pulling her feet up to avoid the encroaching multi coloured foam. 

Sherlock frowned at what he could only describe as a rainbow foam volcano now spewing out of the bathtub. 

"Hmm, might have used slightly stronger chemicals than the website suggested," he muttered, edging through the foam to pick his daughter up before spinning the taps of the tub open to try and start washing some of the foam away. "We'll just, we'll leave those running for a bit." He carried her out of the bathroom shutting the door behind them. "We'll not try that one again, hmm?"

Verity shook her head as she clung to Sherlock shaking bubbles off her feet. "Maybe we can try making our own bouncy balls instead?"

Sherlock tilted his head as he considered it, briefly imagining enhancing the recipe for the bouncy balls, and then imagining the ball shooting through the ceiling and into Verity's room.

"Hmm, maybe we'll try the giant washing up liquid bubbles instead? We'll go to the park to try them out shall we?" He asked putting her down as he started to gather supplies in a bucket. "Come on, go and ask Mrs Hudson if she's got a spare wire coat hanger and I'll bring the stuff downstairs."

"Ok," she grinned already heading down the stairs.

"And don't forget to put shoes and your coat on!" Sherlock called after her, grinning at her excitement.

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

 

John dropped his bag just inside the hallway, tucking it into a corner so Mrs Hudson wouldn't trip over it when she was out there next. He rubbed a hand over his face as he trudged up the stairs trying to wipe the signs of his day away, hoping Sherlock wouldn't deduce him instantly in front of Verity. He eased the flat door open frowning at the too quiet, too empty room. He hadn't text Sherlock to say he'd be back, but he'd assumed they'd be in as it was close to dinner time. Besides which, he'd been looking forward to a cuddle with Verity to make him feel a bit better. He let out a huff and went to flip the kettle on instead, spotting a collection of bath products on the kitchen counter, rolling his eyes at the disarray. 

As soon as he opened the bathroom door to put everything back where it belonged, he regretted it, as a stream of multicoloured foam oozed out into the hallway. 

"What in God's name..." He muttered retreating back to the kitchen to grab the mop.

Rolling his sleeves up and hoping that the foam wasn't toxic he attacked it with the mop, rinsing it out in the bath and muttering to himself about why he was still cleaning up after Sherlock when he didn't even live here any more and what the hell had Sherlock even been doing to cause this much mess, and such a colourful mess at that. By the time he'd cleaned up the bathroom the kettle had long since boiled and John grumbled some more complaints to the empty room about Sherlock's irresponsibility as he reboiled it.

He eventually sat down in what he still thought of as his chair, closing his eyes and dropping his head back. He realised this was the first time he'd been alone in the flat since he'd moved out after Sherlock had died. _'Not died,_ he thought. _Left. Was made to leave._ It was hard to realign his thoughts in light of what had really happened. He'd spent three years thinking his mate had left him in the worst possible way, it was hard to dismiss all of those feelings.

He looked around the living room, amazed by how much of it was exactly as it had been last time he was here alone. He grinned at the skull in pride of place on the mantle still, a larger pile of stuff secured under the knife, the medical and forensic books still stacked on every surface. His smile softened as he spotted the new additions to the flat though. A pile of books aimed at making science fun for kids, some of Verity's drawings pinned to the walls, a miniature music stand next to Sherlock's own one, and a tiny violin case leaning against Sherlock's familiar one. 

John sipped at his tea before putting his cup on the table next to his chair, closing his eyes again as he let himself drift through his memories of Baker Street. 

He didn't realise he'd been lulled into a doze until he was woken up by Verity's familiar excited shriek. 

"Papa! What are you doing here?" She grinned as she threw herself onto his lap. 

He wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her close, a big lungful of her scent making him instantly feel slightly easier, the tight knot of guilt and sadness receding a fraction.

"I missed you so I came home early," he smiled at her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Awww," she cooed, squeezing him tightly. "Daddy and I have been quite busy so I didn't miss you, but I love you anyway."

John laughed and held her tightly, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Finally he looked up at Sherlock's, sending him a tight smile, certain that everything that had gone on between he and Will must be apparent on his face.

Sherlock returned his tight smile with a tilt of his head. "More tea?"

John nodded, grateful for Sherlock's uncharacteristic tact. He watched Sherlock's back for a second before kissing Verity's hair again. "So, missy, can you explain why when I got her the bathroom was full of multicoloured foam?" 

She looked up at him, her expression so like Sherlock's as she replied seriously, "It was an experiment Papa." As if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. 

"Oh, is that so?" He grinned, tickling her until she shrieked. "You better explain it to me then because it just looked like a colourful mess from what I could see." 

\- - - - - - - - - -

Verity had fallen asleep on the sofa after they'd all had dinner together, the excitement of her busy day with Sherlock having taken its toll on her.

"Should I put her to bed here?" Sherlock asked, watching John carefully. 

"Yeah, might as well," John nodded. "All her stuff's here after all."

Sherlock nodded before picking Verity up carefully, smiling as she clung to him in sleep. "Back shortly." 

John cleared their plates and mugs, deciding he might as well wash up since it wouldn't occur to Sherlock and it wouldn't be nice for Mrs Hudson to get back to. 

He hummed softly along with the radio, his thoughts drifting over the day's events. He'd text Will's sister on the way back to London from the hotel, giving her the bare bones of what had happened and asking her to call Will to check on him. She'd sent him a terse reply not long after, so at least he knew she'd spoken to Will. 

"Can I ask yet?" Sherlock asked, his unexpected voice making John jump. 

"Shit, you scared me!" John choked out, turning to dry his hands off. "Ask about what?" 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You know what." 

John sighed and rummaged in the cupboard for something stronger than tea and pulling out a bottle of whisky. "Fine, fine, go ahead, I'm surprised you can't deduce it all anyway," he sighed as he poured his drink.

"I can obviously determine the end result, but I find myself unsure about the why...I have to admit I'd rather expected a different outcome from this weekend."

"You're not the only one," John grimaced as he leant back against the counter. 

Sherlock watched him for a moment, this stiff line of his shoulders and the worry around his eyes speaking volumes about his day. "Did he even get to ask?"

"No" John sighed again, putting his drink down and wrapping his arms around himself. 

Sherlock nodded slowly. "Didn't think so, thought you'd have said yes if he had."

John nodded not looking properly at Sherlock. "Me too."

Sherlock's heart clenched at that. "What happened?"

"When you text, about Verity asking about where babies come from it started a conversation about children," John sighed.

"Ah," Sherlock said carefully. "He wanted some and you didn't?"

John nodded slowly. "How is it I've barely seen you for 3 years and you understand that without a word and I couldn't explain it to the guy who's been my boyfriend for a year an a half?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer but John interrupted him.

"Don't actually answer that."

Sherlock shrugged.

"I just...once he'd said it i couldn't unhear it and-" he huffed out a breath rubbing a hand over his face. "Being Verity's dad is the most amazing experience of my life, she's literally kept me alive these last few years and I just...I couldn't keep him from having that experience too."

Sherlock watched as John slumped against the counter. "And that was the right decision, which he'll see eventually."

"You would say that," John said as he huffed out a dry laugh, taking a gulp of his drink.

"Why?" Sherlock frowned, moving to help himself to a glass of whisky, coming to rest leaning against the counter next to John.

John rolled his eyes. "Because I've come home from a romantic weekend single rather than planning on marrying someone else." He finally looked up at Sherlock, holding his gaze. "Of course you'd think I've made the right decisions."

Sherlock smirked at him. "You've always had excellent judgement."

"Shut up," John said elbowing Sherlock. He sighed at the familiarity of it all pulling his gaze away from Sherlock. "This doesn't change things between you and I you know? It wasn't about you." He needed Sherlock to understand that. 

He understood why Sherlock had left and had forgiven him for going, but John had had his own life in that time, had fought through grief to rebuild a new life for he and Verity and he needed Sherlock to understand that John hadn't changed his new life for Sherlock's sake but for his own.

Sherlock nodded. "Of course." He carefully schooled his face to keep his expression neutral. Inside his heart felt lighter than it had in days. 

John wasn't his again, but he wasn't someone else's either, and that alone had to be progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title quote:  
> New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings - Lao Tzu  
> 


	24. Then - Next Year's Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for taking so long, I'm officially hopeless!
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it! W

\- - - - - - - 

 

John grinned at Will's text, tapping out a brief reply as he waited for Greg to come back from the bar.

"You look cheerful," Greg said as he set a pint down in front of John before sliding into the booth with his own drink. 

"Oh, er, sorry," John blushed still smiling as he slipped his phone into his pocket. 

"No no," Greg smiled. "Don't apologize, it's all good. It's nice to see you smiling mate, it's been too long." 

John ducked his head taking a drink before looking at Greg again. "I've met someone," he said watching Greg carefully for his reaction. He'd not told anyone that he was dating yet and he was unsure of what to expect. He was fully prepared to defend himself. In the weeks he'd been seeing Will he'd reasoned out to himself, repeatedly, exactly why it was fine for him to be dating again,and was prepared to remind his friends of these reasons if necessary.

"That's great news mate, I'm really pleased for you." 

John's smile grew as Greg seemed genuinely happy for him.

"Tell me about them then, where did you meet?" 

"He, um, he's a doctor, I was visiting a patient and he's her consultant." 

"What's he like?" 

John fiddled with a beer mat before looking at Greg. "He's nice, really nice. Kind, friendly, sociable. You'll like him," John smiled at his friend, still spinning the beer mat. 

Greg nodded at him still smiling but didn't speak for a moment. John wondered if Greg was thinking about the fact that none of the words John had used to describe Will were ones that people would use to describe Sherlock to someone who'd never met him. "He's called Will." 

Greg nodded still smiling. "He sounds nice, when can I meet him? How's it going?" 

John bobbed his head. "It's going well, I think." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his hair. "I'm just so out of practice, I feel like I've not got a clue what I'm supposed to be doing so I'm just muddling through." 

Greg barked out a laugh. "That's what we're all doing mate! No one knows what they're doing. You just blunder through and hope for the best."

John laughed before taking a drink. "I guess so, I just...I know it's obvious but it was so different with Sherlock." 

Greg sent him a tight lipped smile. "Wasn't everything John?"

\- - - - - - -

"Papa, is it time to meet your new friend yet?" Verity asked squirming around as John tried to wedge her foot into a shiny black school shoe.

"Not yet, we're meeting him at lunchtime remember? We need to get your uniform first, and we'll not manage that if you don't stop squirming." 

She kept still at that, having been excited to meet John's 'new friend' all week since John had suggested it. She leaned on John's shoulder as he buckled the shoe up. 

"Can I wear my new shoes today?"

"No," John asked leaning back and feeling her foot through the shoe. "They're for school remember?"

"That's not for ages," she muttered with a put upon sigh. 

"It's only a few weeks love. Now, how're they? Move around a bit so we can see if they're comfy." 

She did a little jig around the shop making John grin as she trotted around. He thanked his lucky stars that she was in good spirits today, hoping that'd make her and Will's first meeting go smoothly. 

"I like them Papa." 

"Great, let's put them back in the box and go and find you a school dress."

Motivated by the promise of lunch with John's new friend Verity was an angel while trying on dresses and t-shirts and even coped with the horror of having to try on a winter coat _and_ a rain mac on a hot day with minimal whining just to get it over with quicker.

When the last thing was in the bag and the cashier was handing John his card back Verity was practically hopping from foot to foot.

"Is it lunchtime now Papa? Are we going to meet him?" 

John laughed guiding Verity out of the store as he text Will to let them know they were on their way. "Yes, yes, we're going to meet him. Do you remember his name's Will?"

"Obviously," she said with a roll of her eyes that made John's heart skip a beat. She was so like Sherlock sometimes, John couldn't help but wonder what she'd be like if Sherlock had stuck around. 

He was distracted from his thoughts by the beep of his phone. Will was at the restaurant ready and waiting.

When they got there John waved at Will, and Verity suddenly became shy, hiding behind John's legs as they approached the table. 

"Hi," John smiled as they got to the table, not sure from the look on Will's face if he was more nervous than Verity was. "Verity, this is Will," he said nudging Verity out from behind his legs. "And Will, this is Verity." 

"Lovely to meet you Verity," Will smiled holding his hand out for her the shake, a gesture she carried out quickly before resting against John again. "I um, I brought you a present," Will said, holding out a gift bag. 

"You didn't need to do that," John chided gently, smiling at the alpha.

"A present?" Verity asked, leaning away from John to peer at the bag. "For me?" 

"Yep," Will nodded still smiling at her. 

She looked up at John. "Does he know it's not my birthday for ages?" 

John laughed and started pulling her coat off her. "Yes he does, Will's just got you a present because he's nice." 

"Oh," she smiled, climbing onto the chair next to Will, kneeling up on it to look into the bag. "Can I open it now?" 

"Of course," Will said, smiling at her, watching as she carefully pulled the tissue paper out of the bag before carelessly dropping it on the floor, the contrast making him grin.

"Awww," she cooed pulling the plush puppy out of the bag. "Papa, look, it's puppy!" She grinned holding the toy up to John's face. 

"What a nice present," he smiled at her. "What do you say to Will?"

"Thank you," she chirped, hopping down off her chair to give will a tight squeeze before sitting back on her chair. "Do you like chips Will?"

John grinned as he sat down. _Friends for life_ , he thought.

\- - - - - - -

Mrs Hudson looked after Verity every Wednesday giving John time to himself, though most often he ended up catching up on paperwork or taking the chance to go to the supermarket without having to take a small child with him. A few days after Verity's first meeting with Will, John got home from work to the smell of baking, smiling at the sight of Verity on her little stepping stool wearing the tiny apron Violet had made for her.

"Something smells yummy," he said, shrugging his coat off.

"Papa!" Verity grinned, gesturing with a tiny spatula. "Look, they're going to be biscuits."

"Evening John," Mrs Hudson smiled, guiding Verity's spatula back into the bowl. "Good day?"

"Not bad," he smiled as he wrapped his arms around Verity, peering over her shoulder as she stirred. "How are you sweetheart? I missed you today. These look like they'll be tasty."

"They will," she said confidently, leaning against him as Mrs Hudson dropped spoonfuls of the mixture into a baking sheet. "We fed the ducks today, they were very greedy."

"They really were, they ate all the seeds we took didn't they?" She smiled as she slid the tray into the oven. "Right, those will be ready in 15 minutes," she said taking Verity's apron off. "Go and wash your hands please, and the pick up all those toys I saw all over your bedroom floor earlier, it's a wonder you've not got mice in the Verity Holmes."

"Ok," she grinned running of toward the bathroom.

Mrs Hudson smiled shaking her head at John.

"Has she been good today?" John asked as he scooped a bit of the raw mixture out of the mixing bowl, earning himself a smack on the wrist from Mrs Hudson as she swiped the bowl out from under his hands.

"She really has, she's seemed a lot better these last few months, calmer," she smiled as she tucked dishes into the dishwasher.

John nodded as he made tea for the two of them. "Mmm, I'd thought so too, I suppose when everyone said to just give her time they were right."

"Either way, she's been a poppet today John. And she ate her lunch and dinner without complaining so I said she could have two biscuits for pudding."

John smiled and handed Mrs Hudson her cup of tea. "Um, I was wondering if you could do me a favour maybe?"

"I probably can dear, what is it?"

"I um, I was wondering if you could have Verity overnight for me?"

"Of course John, any time, when?"

"I'm not sure."

"Oh?" She said with furrowed eyebrows.

John fiddled with his cup. "I um...I'm seeing someone, dating," he clarified, blushing slightly. 

"Oh!" Mrs Hudson smiled at him. "Oh, that's lovely John. How long?"

"Just a couple of months or so, it's all...new, tentative I guess, but I think it's going well, he's nice, a doctor."

"I'm so pleased for you."

"Thanks," John said, feeling awkward. "He, um, he met Verity at the weekend, I'm surprised she didn't mention it, she seemed to have a great time."

"Ah, she said you'd met up with a friend, I thought she just meant Mike or someone."

John smiled.

"I really am pleased for you John, I know it must be strange..." She shrugged, a helpless sympathetic look on her face.

John nodded. "Yeah, you could say that."

"But you've got to keep building a good life for you and Verity-"

"I'm Verity," the little girl beamed as she ran back into the kitchen. 

"So you are!" Mrs Hudson smiled, squeezing John's arm softly. "Now, let's check on those biscuits shall we?"

\- - - - -

 

When Sherlock was alive they'd probably only gone out to his parents' cottage a few times a year - Christmas and birthdays usually, but since he'd been gone Violet and Siger had been such a support to John that he and Verity found themselves with them once a month or so. They both had clothes and toiletries there, the place feeling homely and welcoming to them both.

John knew that once Verity started school, when she started getting invited to parties or doing activities, their weekends wouldn't be their own any more, so John had made sure to take her to visit Granny and Grandpa a little more often than usual in the run up to school starting, and with the big day only a couple of weeks away he'd taken a couple of days off work so they could go for a long weekend. Violet and Siger were so good with Verity, and John relished the chance to hand over a few of the more mundane parenting tasks for the weekend to willing grandparents while he caught up on sleep and read the papers.

It was funny how all these visits without Sherlock had left him feeling at home and like part of the family in a way he never had when he'd visited with his mate.

When they'd settled for dinner on the day they'd arrived John was chatting to Siger about the ongoing unrest in the Middle East, while Violet chatted with Verity about her week.

John was just pondering something that Siger had said when he heard Verity's reply to a question of Violet's.

"No, Granny Hudson had a sleepover with me at my house because Daddy was out all night with his new friend."

John froze, his fork halfway to his mouth as he realised that Verity's comment couldn't really be misinterpreted. This wasn't how he'd planned on telling his in-laws that he was seeing someone new at all.

He cleared his throat as Violet turned to look at him, studying him with that look that he'd forever think of as the Holmes stare. He set his fork down, glancing briefly at Verity who was oblivious to the change in mood, tucking in to her dinner.

"I, er..." he cleared his throat again. "I was going to tell you this weekend. I've met someone, I'm dating." He felt himself blush as he waited for them to respond.

Siger was first, sending him a warm smile. "I'm glad for you John, how, um, how did you meet?" He asked, glancing at Violet who was still starting at John.

John tried not to fidget, all to aware that Violet was still watching him but hadn't said anything. "He's a doctor too, at a hospital I was visiting. We got chatting...he's nice."

There was silence again and John poked awkwardly at the chicken on his plate waiting for someone to say something.

"I've finished," Verity said cheerily. "Can I leave the table please?"

"Of course, of course," Violet said shaking her head slightly. "Why don't you go and finish your colouring in the snug?"

Once Verity had run off, John met Violet's eye. "I know it must be hard to hear..."

She shook her head softly. "No, no, I just....I'm just surprised." She made a valiant attempt at smiling before becoming teary eyed. "Sorry, sorry, I don't...I'm not cross."

John smiled weakly before getting up and taking Verity's empty seat, wrapping an arm around Violet's shoulder. "It's ok."

Violet nodded and leaned on him. "It's just another confirmation that he's gone."

John nodded, the now familiar knot of guilt twisting inside him. "It is...You know...sometimes, even now, it's like I forget, and just for a split second when I wake up I'll think he must still be out on a case and he'll be back soon, and then I remember and..." He sighs and squeezes her softly. "It'd be really easy to live like that, pretending he's just out on a case and he'll just waltz back in at any moment, but I think- I know - that if I don't make myself move on, I'll just live my life playing pretend like that..." He sighed and rubbed his face. "I can't feel bad about not waiting for someone who's never coming back."

Violet shook her head against his shoulder, snuffling softly before sitting up. "Quite right John." She smiled, still sad but trying. "So he's met Verity, your friend?"

John nodded, making himself smile. "Yeah, I mean, if she hadn't approved that would have been it wouldn't it?" 

Violet and Siger both chuckled. "Absolutely," Siger nodded smiling. "And he passed the test?"

John smiled and nodded. "He bought her a plush puppy and said chips were his favourite food, he was a hit."

Violet chuckled and wiped her eyes. "And he's nice?"

John smiled softly nodding. "Yeah, he's lovely. He's very kind and thoughtful. Friendly."

Violet sighed softly, still smiling. "He sounds...different to Sherlock."

John nodded again thinking for a moment of how to phrase his thoughts. "He'd have to be wouldn't he? Sherlock was one of a kind, I was far luckier than I had any right to be to even know him, never mind being loved by him and having his baby...I could never, ever replace him Violet, and I'd never try, so it makes sense that Will's different, everyone is."

Violet sent him a tight, teary smile. "Oh John, you're such a lovely boy. I am glad you know, you deserve to be happy, I just-" she swallowed and shook her head. "Never mind that, I'm happy for you." She forced a bigger smile on her face. "Oh dear," she said frowning at her plate. "This is cold now, doesn't look very appealing. Shall we go straight to pudding? I made an Apple crumble and Siger made ice cream."

 

Later that night Violet caught John on his own as he filed his water glass before bed.

"John, I just wanted to say that, whatever happens in the future, you'll always be family, and not just because of Verity, but...we're family, and everything we've been through has only strengthened that connection for me."

John smiled around the prickling behind his eyes and the lump in his throat, pulling Violet carefully into a hug. "That means so much to me Violet, thank you."

\- - - - -

After the first time John and Will had sex John waited until Will was deep asleep, eased himself from under the alpha's arm and spent almost an hour locked in Will's bathroom trying not to cry or dissolve into a puddle of guilt and self hatred.

He liked Will, a lot in fact. Things were going well with them. Will was kind, and caring, he made John feel special and cared for again, valuable. He made John laugh, made him look forward to his days rather than just getting through them. He really liked Will, so his reaction to what had been some fairly great sex should not have been an overwhelming urge to confess what he'd done and apologise to someone. 

The thing was, he reminded himself, was that the person he wanted to apologise to had made John watch as he jumped off a building, had jumped despite John reminding him of their baby, had bled out on the pavement while John could only look on and vomit in the street.

John shook his head, wiped his eyes and stood up from where he'd been perched on the floor. _No more,_ he thought looking at his reflection. _No more._

He quietly eased back into Will's bed, shuffling back until his back was pressed against Will's front, grabbing onto Will's hand as an arm snaked over his waist, pulling him close.

The problem was, however much John told himself not to think about Sherlock, his subconscious had other ideas, and the alpha in his dreams wasn't the one with their arms wrapped around him that night.

\- - - - -

 

When the doorbell rang, John was still trying to coax Verity into eating more than two bites of her sandwich and was in the middle of explaining to her why cake alone wasn't lunch 

"I'll get it," Will smiled, kissing John's hair as he stood up, passing down the hall to the door.

"Hello?" He smiled at the stranger on the doorstep.

The stranger frowned, his stern expression growing sterner. "Who are you?"

Will sent a confused smile at the man. "Sorry mate, I'm pretty sure I should be asking you that, since you're on that side of the door and I'm on this side," he said gesturing at Mycroft and himself.

The man's frown deepened and he pursed his lips. "Mate?" He scowled. "Where's John?"

Will crossed his arms. "Well since I still don't know who you are I don't know that it's any of your business."

" _None of my business?_ Excuse me, but -"

"What's going on?" John asked stopping just behind Will as he does the visitor. "Oh, Mycroft, hi."

"Mycroft?" Will asked frowning. 

"You'd better come in," John sighed stepping just into the hallway. 

When all the men were in and the door was shut John made his introductions. 

"Mycroft this is Will. Will this is Mycroft, Sherlock's brother."

"Ah, right, sorry about that," Will said tightly, holding his hand our for Mycroft to,shake. "No hard feelings."

Mycroft shook Will's hand briefly. "I'm sure," Mycroft said with a cold smile, barely looking at Will for a second. "John, a word if I may?"

John nodded, deciding not to delay the inevitable. "Of course. Um, would you mind coaxing Verity into finishing her lunch?" He asked turning to Will.

"Sure," Will nodded. "I'll er...yep." He squeezed John's shoulder as he passed by to go back to the kitchen.

John turned back to Mycroft fully expecting the unimpressed look on the man's face.

"Ah, let's go through to the living room."

Mycroft sat primly on the edge of the sofa. He remained silent but raised an eyebrow at John.

John sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "You've probably deduced everything anyway so I'll just get to the facts. Will's my boyfriend. I've been seeing him for a few months. He's great with Verity. I told your parents about him when I was up there a few weeks ago...Anything else you'd like to know?"

"Your _boyfriend_?" Mycroft asked sounding unimpressed. "I was unaware we were still in school."

John rolled his eyes. "Yes Mycroft, my boyfriend, it's not that unusual a term for people who have normal interactions with other humans."

Mycroft frowned.

"I'm sorry you found out like this, I'd hoped to see you to tell you, but you've not been around for a while."

"I've been away for work."

John nodded. "Verity's missed you."

Mycroft nodded fractionally. "And I her. I came to see how she was finding school and if she'd like to go out for a treat."

"I'm sure she'd like that."

John watched as Mycroft looked around the small living room, his expression unreadable.

"If you've got something to say Mycroft just say it."

Mycroft turned his gaze back to John, and John felt as if Mycroft was reading his every thought, a feeling he'd forever associate with the Holmeses.

"My brother has barely been gone for-"

"Your brother jumped off a building and made me watch," John interrupted, meeting Mycroft's eyes. "He left us both, and made me watch as he did it." He bit his lip as he swallowed around the lump that seemed permanently lodged in his throat lately. "Anything else you'd like to say?"

Mycroft watched him carefully for a moment. "No."

"Thank you," John said as he stood up. "Now what was this about a treat for Verity?"

A few hours later, after a trip to Hamley's followed by cake at one of Kensington's finest patisseries, and a stop to collect Anthea, Mycroft dropped Verity off, frowning as Will stood behind John as they waved Mycroft off.

"Who was that?" Anthea asked, tilting her head in the direction of John's flat as they drove away.

"John's new _boyfriend_ ," Mycroft frowned, resting his head back against the headrest.

"Ah," Anthea said, an eyebrow raised as she handed Mycroft the dossier for their upcoming meeting. "Are you going to tell him?"

Mycroft sighed turning the file around in his hand for a moment. Sherlock had been clear when they'd devised the plan, no contact unless it was life or death. "No. It's not ideal but...it's not safe to contact him about something as trivial as this."

"Not so trivial if John bonds with the new guy."

Mycroft's frown deepened. "We'll just have to hope Sherlock tries a bit harder and finishes his mission before then won't we? Now," he said opening the file. "Bolivia."

\- - - - - - -

3500 miles away a tall, thin man checked into a run down motel with nothing but a briefcase. He paid in cash and spoke flawless Russian, and was utterly forgettable to everyone that he encountered, which given that he'd come from ending the life of a high profile people trafficker, was exactly the impression he'd wanted to leave. He was so forgettable that no one interviewed by the local police even remembered him.

He sat undisturbed as the police chased the false leads he'd laid. He set his usual safeguards up and lay back before delving into his mind palace. He wandered the halls for a moment before letting himself into his favourite room. Verity was curled up with John, not stirring as he lay down next to them. John smiled and opened one eye.

"You're late."

Sherlock smiled back stroking Verity's hair. "It's complicated."

John rolled his eyes but kept smiling. "It always is."

"Has she forgotten me?"

John smile turned sad. "She barely knew you."

Sherlock nodded, moving closer to them both. "I'm so tired."

"You should rest, I'm here, we're OK."

Sherlock nodded and moved his hand to cup John's face. "I miss you."

John nodded, tight lipped and concerned looking. "Sleep."

And for the first time in a week he sank into a deep and dreamless sleep.

\- - - - - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title Quote -
> 
> For last year's words belong to last year's language  
> And next year's words await another voice.  
> And to make an end is to make a beginning
> 
> \- T S Elliot 


End file.
